


Down

by AikiBriarRose



Series: The Axis of Time [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers - Freeform, Enhanced, F/M, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), IronStrange, M/M, MCU Alternate Dimensions, Marvel - Freeform, Multi, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, SHIELD, The Avengers - AU, marvel AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:59:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 69,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AikiBriarRose/pseuds/AikiBriarRose
Summary: Dimension 6969MCU Timeline: Somewhere between The Avengers and Age of Ultron; non-compliant with canonSummary:You are a special agent for SHIELD, part of the undercover team led by Natasha Romanov, and capable of manipulating sound waves. An Enhanced human, you have had these abilities for several years and joined SHIELD both to use them and stay safe.Dr Tony Stark has been drawn to you since he first saw you four years ago at Avengers HQ. Only problem is, no one knows he is Iron Man except the top people of SHIELD. He gets a chance to save your life after you perform a daring rescue and now he has a reason to get to know you.Now he is  working with SHIELD to find out who tried to kill you in the first place. The closer you and he get, the more it feels like someone is trying to keep you apart.





	1. Down - Verse 1 - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Songfic: angst/romance based on the song [Down by Marian Hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpMfP6qUSBo)
> 
> A/N: This started as my song fic for @whothehellisbella‘s Cool Time Summer Jamz Mix writing challenge last year (2017). Thanks for getting me going! Truth be told, the whole ACT ONE album by Marian Hill has been great inspiration while writing this series.
> 
> Also A/N: I've had to adjust the chapter headings and verses tied to each chapter as this story is turning out to be way longer than I first thought it would be. Don't worry, the story itself hasn't changed. Thanks for understanding!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 1  
>  **Didn't even really wanna go**  
>  But if you get me out, you get a show  
> There's so many bodies on the floor  
> So baby we should go and add some more
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> Warning: medical talk about injuries

Tony sat by the side of the hospital bed that held the still form of the woman he had just finished operating on. She was in recovery now, her only motion the rise and fall of her chest as the respirator kept her breathing. He was almost as motionless, watching her breathing, his head propped up on his fist, elbows resting on the guardrail to her bed. His eyes moved constantly, though, from her breathing to the respirator to the monitor screen that showed her vitals and back to the rise and fall of her chest. He made it a point to keep from looking at her face, hard as it was to see anything amidst the bandages and breathing tubes.

He knew her face, knew it from the videos they were showing on the news, which was surprising considering her job. She was a SHIELD agent, one of the best, and like the Avengers, tended to not show her face in order to keep her identity hidden. People didn’t want to see that their saviors, their rescuers, were human like them. They preferred to view them as heroes, as more than human. Not to mention the problems that arose when some bad guy decided they had a personal vendetta against one of the heroes. As a SHIELD agent, she also did undercover work, so showing her face wasn’t a normal thing for her.

She was a hero this time though, and the news wanted to celebrate what she had done. He wanted to celebrate it as well, but right now, was more concerned with saving her life, as she had saved his. His and close to a hundred others. The blast that she had diverted had caught her badly enough to have nearly destroyed the front of her ribcage and embedded metal fragments into and nearby her heart. He’d removed as much as he could this time around, but with the structural damage she’d suffered, a few remaining pieces of metal that may or may not shift in her heart muscle was the least of her worries right now.

He realized his eyes hadn’t moved in their continual loop for a few moments now. Removing his safety glasses, still on his face from the operating room, he wiped his face with one hand, massaging his neck with the other. He tried not think about how tired he was.

The figure that stepped through the curtain was in shadow and went unnoticed until it made a noise like clearing it’s throat. Tony raised his head and looked that way.

“Oh, there you are, Stephen. I was wondering if you were going to come find me when you finished.”

Dr. Stephen Strange, world-renowned neurosurgeon, smiled at his friend and stepped to his side. He rested one hand on Tony’s shoulder. “How’s she doing, Tony? Do you think she’ll pull through?”

Tony looked up at his friend, a hesitant but hopeful look in his eye. “God, I hope so,” he replied softly. His heart had skipped a beat at his friend’s question. The thought of this woman dying was not something he wanted to think of right now. This confused him even more because he didn’t know her. Sure he knew who she was and in some ways, knew her more intimately than any lover ever would, but as far as things like her favorite color, food, movie or even if she liked cats or dogs, they were all mysteries to him. Still, he had to resist looking at her face and watching her breathe and he wasn’t sure why.

Stephen scoffed. “She doesn’t need God. She’s got you and me to look out for her now.”

Tony laughed at this familiar display of arrogance even as he breathed a prayer in his heart for her to survive.

********************************************************

Later, in the ICU, he met with the people responsible for her life. Nick Fury was well known as the head of SHIELD operations but he wasn’t alone. A redhead dressed in form fitting black leather stood near the head of the bed, leaning over the unconscious woman. The look of concern on the redhead’s face gave away her relationship. This must be the team leader, Tony thought. Natasha Romanov, notorious in reputation, looked just like any other parent or sister he’d ever seen standing by the bed of their loved one. He looked over at Fury. The man was watching him watch Agent Romanov, and nodded at him when their gazes met. His smile was grim.

“I’m glad you could meet with us, Dr. Stark.” He stuck out his hand. Tony looked at it, looked at Fury, nodded and stepped to the end of the bed and picked up the chart. Fury cocked his head to one side and studied him. A minute shake of his head and he dropped his hand, then stepped to the end of the bed and looked over Tony’s shoulder. “Tell us what her chances are, Doctor. How bad is it?”

Reminding himself that these were soldiers in a high-powered war, Tony didn’t immediately give them his normal smooth answer. Normal people got that answer, the one that made them aware there was the chance of the person in the bed dying, but padded and couched in terms that made them feel relieved they didn’t have to prepare goodbyes just yet. Instead, he scowled and flipped through the charts, pretending he didn’t already know what they said by heart. Finally, when Agent Romanov moved from her place to join Fury at the foot of the bed, he tucked the chart under one arm and folded his arms over his chest.

“Y/N Y/L/N took a concussive blast directly to her chest. The energy from that blast gave her third-degree burns over most of her torso. It also pulverized her sternum and most of her ribs. Several pieces of shrapnel entered her chest cavity, tearing holes in her lungs and heart. Most of them exited her back, breaking more ribs and leaving more holes behind. Some of them stayed, and have lodged in her firmer tissues.” He paused to let his words sink in.

“You mean in her heart, right?” Fury’s response was quicker than he expected. “That’s why you were called in. Did you get everything removed?”

Tony shook his head, his gaze grim. He walked over to the lightbox and flipped on the switch, X-rays of Y/N’s chest cavity were lit up from behind, the bones shattered and three bright spots slicing through the area of the heart.

“I removed everything possible right now.”

“You left those in her heart?” Romanov interrupted, her voice harsh with emotion. “She’ll die if you don’t…”

“No!” Tony barked, interrupting her tirade. “No,” he repeated, less harshly this time, “she won’t. Not yet anyway. But she needs a chance to recover before I can go back in and see if it’s possible. Right now, I’m more concerned with keeping it beating. That means fixing her ribcage.”

He turned back to the x-rays and pointed at the sternum, or what remained of it. “The damage is extensive, but if we rebuild her ribcage, then her heart will be protected and can recover. In the meantime, I propose inserting an electromagnetic unit above her heart to slowly move the remaining pieces of metal out from the center of her heart so they can eventually be removed by more conventional means.”

The words came out in a rush, spurred on by the unconventional nature of the proposal and his concern that they would reject it. Tony looked at Fury and Romanov, waiting for their reactions. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Are you crazy?”

“What would you use to build a new ribcage out of?”

Fury’s inquiry came over Romanov’s objection, making her turn and stare at him. He held up a hand to her, his gaze remaining on Tony. She rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms in front of her, scowling at her boss. Tony grinned, excited and relieved that Fury seemed open to the possibility.

“Titanium. I’d go in and insert flat pieces of the metal along the route where her bones are fragmented, which will allow them to grow back around each piece. Meanwhile, her muscles and tissues have something to stabilize them and she’ll be able to breath on her own in a week or less. The unit would go here -” he pointed at a spot in the center of the sternum. Currently that spot was full of little white bits of bone, even smaller in size than the remains of the ribs.

When he looked back, Fury was thoughtful and Romanov was impatient, one foot tapping out a rapid beat. Tony waited until they both gave him their full attention. He swallowed and took the plunge.

“We need to get this done as quickly as possible. Otherwise, due to the restraining cage Ms. Y/L/N has on her torso currently, we will need to put her in a medically induced coma for the next several months while we wait for her ribs to heal. Even then, it’s no guarantee that her heart will hold out or that the pieces still in it won’t shift.” He paused and put on his best concerned doctor’s face, determined to convince them. They were the ones that held Y/N’s life in their hands and he wasn’t about to let it slip away easily.

Fury nodded. “I’ll need a few hours to get all the paperwork in order but you can start prepping now. I’ll have my Medical head operator get over here so you can prep him on helping you.”

“Oh, no need, Director Fury. I have the best neurosurgeon available helping me with the operation. We don’t need…” Tony started to voice his objections.

Fury cut him off. “Dr. Banner is the best bio-engineer in the world. He’ll assist you and Dr. Strange with the procedure. She’s my agent, you’ll work with Banner or not at all.”

Tony gulped and nodded his acceptance. “Dr. Banner is welcome to assist, Director. I wasn’t aware he was available. Thank you.”

So it was true, thought Tony. Y/N was an Enhanced agent, else why have Dr. Banner attend the surgery. As the world’s leading authority on Enhanced humans, Dr. Banner was someone Tony had always wanted to meet. He had heard rumors of Dr. Banner having his own Enhanced abilities, but nothing had ever been confirmed and Tony didn’t really care about that. The chance to speak and work with him was enough for now.

Romanov came up to Tony directly then, getting up close enough to trigger alarm at the intrusion of his personal space. He leaned away from her, clenching his fists to keep from lashing out. “Can I help you, Ms. Romanov?”

“Yes, you can. Don’t take this lightly. Y/L/N isn’t some lab rat for you to experiment on. I’m not sure why but the Director seems to think you know what you’re doing, so I’ll have to accept that for now. You just better not screw this up.” Her scowl, though fierce Tony noticed, hide the worry in her eyes about her friend. “I don’t understand how you think this will even work.”

“Oh it will work. I’ve got experience in this area, trust me.” He raised his chin and smiled at her, knowing it came off as condescending. “No worries, Ms. Romanov. I never fail and especially now I won’t fail.” Before he could continue, Fury spoke up.

“He won’t fail, Natasha, because he owes Y/N his life. Right, Dr. Stark?” The smug grin on his face knotted up Tony’s gut. He knew that Fury was privy to his secret, but Romanov wasn’t aware of why he was insisting this be done. Until now. Still, if Fury trusted her, then Tony had no choice but to trust her as well.

“That’s right, Director.” Tony looked Natasha directly in the eye. “Ms. Romanov, Fury is right. I do owe her my life. I swear I won’t let her die.”

Romanov studied him for a moment, eyes narrowed in concentration. “How is that possible?” she finally asked.

“Dr. Stark was there, just not as his normal, civilian self. Y/L/N saved him along with all the other civilians in the area when she deflected that blast.” Fury looked around the room and then back at Natasha. “He’s Iron Man.”


	2. Down - Verse 1 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 1  
> Didn't even really wanna go  
>  **But if you get me out, you get a show**  
>  There's so many bodies on the floor  
> So baby we should go and add some more
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> Warning: We’re not in Kansas anymore!; Dystopic Avengers; more hospital stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited (June 21, 2018) to replace Wanda with Clint because - I can’t tell you that. Just keep reading!

You woke up a little while after they removed the intubation tube, throat sore, chest sore, everything sore. Looking around, you recognized it as a hospital room and wondered why you weren’t at HQ in the medical facilities there. Your attempt to sit up brought immense amounts of morphine-dulled pain, and the attention of the people in the room. Natasha was the first to your side.

“Hey, Y/N, don’t sit up, don’t sit up.” Her hands were on your shoulders, helping you ease back onto the pillow behind you. She had that look in her eye, the one that said you better not argue with her or else. You gave a weak laugh and did as she said. Once you were settled, you looked around at everyone there. 

“What is this?” you muttered. “A frikkin family reunion?” Most of the Avengers were there, as was most of your teammates, Natasha’s team. It was weird how you noticed small, stupid details at times like this. Like how the SHIELD agents were all on one side and the Avengers were all on the other. Not that the Avengers weren’t part of SHIELD, but they were the elite and the rest of you were just foot soldiers. Still, it was nice to see everyone. 

That’s when you realized you couldn’t remember why you were there. The last you remember was Venezuela, fighting a Hydra cell there. Natasha had given the go-ahead for a rescue. You recalled the leader of the rebels that had been trying to oust the government originally, then joined with them to fight against Hydra, Miles Morales, that was his name. And that was the extent of your memory until today, until now. You look around and see everyone is watching you. Forcing a smile, you ask “Did I miss anything while I was out?”

Everyone grinned and relaxed at this quip, taking it for your usual smart-alecky attitude. Natasha slipped onto the bed next to you as Clint and Sam approached you. 

“Hey there,” Sam stuck out his fist and you managed to raise your own to bump his, your usual greeting. “You made the news bigtime. Way to go!”

You made yourself keep an innocent smile on your face. There was no way you were letting anyone know you couldn’t remember what had happened. That could cost you your field commission, or worse, your job. “Did I now? How about that?” you drawled, affecting a country accent.

Clint laughed. “I told you, this would be no big deal to her, Sam. She isn’t in this line of work for the fame. Right, Y/N?”

This made you laugh for real, as you and the others had this discussion at least once a week, usually on your team’s night out after a few drinks. The laugh came out weak and wheezy and you quickly stopped. “Right you are, Clint.” Your murmur was only heard by the ones around your bed. “I’m in it for the money.”

All three of them laughed at this, cut-off as Director Fury and Captain America made their way to the other side of your bed. They smiled that smile that showed they wanted to laugh but wasn’t in on the joke. You held out your hand to them.

“Welcome, Director Fury,” you said, your tone a direct contrast to your words. “What brings you to my neighborhood?”

“Just checking in on the agent of the hour, Y/N. I’m sure you don’t know yet, but it was real close there for a little while. If Dr. Banner and Dr. Stark hadn’t pulled through for you, your recovery would be taking a lot longer.” He shifted his gaze over to Natasha, still sitting by your head. You follow his gaze and see a furious scowl on Natasha’s face, like nothing you’d ever seen there. 

She caught you staring at her and smoothed her scowl into a frown, shooting a dirty look at Fury as she did so. Patting you on the head, she smirked at you. “Yeah, Y/N, one of the hidden benefits of working for SHIELD is getting all the newest experimental treatments before anyone else in the world can try them out.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw an offended frown flash across Fury’s face before being replaced by that diplomatic smirk he used for most everyone he was annoyed with. “Indeed, Romanov, we give our agents all the best in the world. That’s why Y/L/N not only got Dr. Tony Stark and Dr. Banner, but Dr. Strange as well. Considering how much faster she’ll heal with the experimental treatment, I’m sure she’ll agree it was worth it.” 

It looked like he was about to say more, but Dr. Banner and another lady you recognized as Captain Hill from the SHIELD skyship Enterprise approached your bed. Dr. Banner turned to you even as he addressed Fury. 

“Hey Director, let’s not tire Y/N out. She just woke up from a very long and painful nap.” He smiled at you and patted your hand, then started checking your pulse, timing it on his watch. 

Captain Hill addressed Fury as well. “The reporters are here and set up in the conference room. Are we going to be able to take her in there or do we need to set up the live feed from here?”

Natasha jumped off the bed and made it around Dr. Banner, Sam, and Clint before anyone could stop her. “No! No way you’re going to make her do a press conference!” she yelled in Fury’s face. “She just woke up from major surgery!”

“Romanov, that’s enough!” Fury commanded, though it had little effect on Natasha’s volume or tirade.

“If you think you can just parade her around…” Natasha didn’t finish that sentence, instead changing her direction of attack. “I can’t believe you! I thought we weren’t in this for the press. You said it doesn’t matter what they think! This isn’t safe for her and makes all our jobs that much harder. Of all the…”

“Lieutenant Romanov, stand down!” Captain America had stepped in and given the order. 

Her training made Natasha step back, mouth shut, but you could still see the fire burning in her eyes. You agreed with her, fuzzy though your brain was. Fury wouldn’t do this without a reason, and you were curious what that was. 

“It’s okay, Tasha,” you murmured, waving your hand at her. Weak as your words were, you managed to make them heard. After all, sound control was what you did. “Tell me, Director,” you looked over at him and smirked to see his scowl at Natasha smooth out when he shifted over to look at you, “why am I being paraded around like a trick pony?”

Fury grinned tightly at your words. He knew better than to expect you to dress them up just for him. You’d never been one to mince your thoughts unless needed, especially after working with Natasha for so long. He nodded at Captain Hill. 

“Maria setup this press conference because you managed to save all those people in Venezuela. It was nearly a disaster. You were the only major injury, fortunately, but the government is a mess now and Hydra still has a base up in the mountains. We stopped them this time, but unless the UN agrees to the new reform government, the old one will take over again. You’ve become the new face of SHIELD, and we need to take advantage of that. Strike while the iron is hot, so to say.”

Years of practice, and training by Natasha and Clint, allowed you to maintain whatever expression you wished on your face no matter who was speaking. You gave Fury a tiny smile while inside you were panicking and running around in circles screaming. You tried to speak and your throat closed up, no saliva available to let you talk. Natasha came to your rescue, handing you a plastic cup of lukewarm water. The temperature didn’t matter, it felt wonderful going down your parched throat. Dr. Banner smiled and offered to refill the cup with a handy pitcher. The water was iced this time, and felt even better going down. 

“Sorry about that. It’s been a whole minute since I had something to drink,” you say, delaying with chit chat while you assessed your situation. You noticed that Dr. Banner had stepped over to the monitors you were wired to and was studying their readouts. His worried look gave you the opening you were looking for. 

“Dr. Banner,” you murmured, amplifying it just enough for everyone around you to hear, “is everything okay? How’s my heart rate?”

“Oh,” he turned around and looked at you, surprise written openly all over his face, “It’s not your heart rate that I’m worried about. That’s doing very well, all things considered. Dr. Stark,” he shook his head, an admiring smile warming his eyes as it crossed his face, “he did an amazing job on you. The whole procedure was…”

“Can she handle a press conference and a few questions today, Doctor?” Fury cut into Dr. Banner’s ramblings, his voice firm yet indulgent. He had always treated Dr. Banner with this odd mixture of indulgence and respect, which influenced others to treat him the same way. 

“Oh, sure!” Dr. Banner exclaimed, beaming at you. You returned his grin, hoping he saw the worry in your eyes. He must have, as he waved at Fury and everyone else. “I need to talk to her first though and go over what was done and what she can expect over the next few weeks. You know, the usual doctor-patient privileged stuff that I’ll need you all to step outside for.” The grin he gave everyone, Fury included, brooked no arguments, even from Natasha.

The room was soon cleared, Natasha being the last one to leave and then not without a promise from Banner to let her back in first. He shut the door behind her and surprised you by locking it. Turning, he looked over his shoulder at you and grinned. 

“So, would you like to hear everything that was done to you first, or should I tell you what happened to bring you to this point?” He chuckled at your surprised look. “Traumatic amnesia. It’s not a surprise that you have it.” He moved to the foot of the bed and picked up your charts, making a notation there.

“How did you know?” You murmured, relaxing now that he had brought it out in the open. 

He smiled and looked at the floor. “You are not one to avoid a subject, no matter how painful it may be. Unless,” he looked up to catch your gaze, “you don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh, am I that obvious?” Your attempt at a smart remark felt snarky instead of witty and you turn your head away, feeling a flood of emotion rising up to choke you. 

“It’s alright to be confused, angry, upset or anything else you are feeling about this.” You hear him step to the side of the bed just before he pats your hand. A tear rolled down your cheek before you could stop it. Thankfully, your face was turned away from him. You hated letting anyone see you cry. 

His hand remained on yours, a warm touch in this cold and lonely place. His voice continues, telling you about your injuries while you pulled yourself together. It heartened you that he was sensitive enough to give you facts, impersonal as they were, instead of telling you what you really didn’t want to hear just yet. They're easier to hear than what put you there.

After he finished with your medical conditions, he paused. “Are you ready for a briefing on what happened to put you here, Y/N?”

You sniff and turn your head to look at him. He gave a tiny smile at your brave face and you nod, your own smile for his kindness tugging at your lips. He told you then, the facts about how many people you saved by using your sonic manipulation to deflect the blast. All those hostages, those rebels and government officials alike, alive because of you. Venezuela getting the chance for a real government because of you. 

Feeling overwhelmed, you wish you could just close your eyes and sleep. Let the morphine take you to slumberland and dream, or not. You sigh instead. “Okay, Dr. Banner. You can let everyone back in now. Natasha first, of course, or she’ll punch you.”

His wry smile at this makes you feel better, even as he opened the door and Natasha rushed past him to hug you. Her murmured comments about how sorry she was that you had to hear about your medical condition without anyone to hold your hand has you chuckling. This quickly halted as Captain Hill came in and started directing her media crew in setting up the livestream camera and some director type person placing everyone in spots to best show them off. 

Finally, there is quiet in the room as the press conference is started in some room down on the main floor of the hospital. The people behind the camera and monitors watch, waiting for the intro to be given. Tension rises in the room as the wait stretches out. Someone turns up the sound and you hear Director Fury answering questions. Then the moment comes and the director person points her finger at you and someone at the monitor starts the countdown...3...2...1

It’s go time, just like any other operation and you are in the spotlight. A pretty lady steps up to you with a mic. You smile because only a few people present know you never need a mic to be heard, then the camera is on you and you are in the monitors.

“...has graciously consented to a few questions from her hospital bed. Here is the Woman of the Hour - Y/N!”


	3. Down - Verse 1 - part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 1  
> Didn't even really wanna go  
> But if you get me out, you get a show  
>  **There's so many bodies on the floor**  
>  So baby we should go and add some more
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> Warning: more hospital stuff and fluff

You made it through the press conference without too many missteps, least you thought so. Natasha gave your arm a squeeze as Dr. Banner waved everyone out of the room. Director Fury was the next-to-last to leave, giving you a salute and a promise of a formal briefing to look forward to in the next few days. Once it was just you and Dr. Banner in the room, he checked your vital signs again. 

You watch him, tired from the ordeal but not truly sleepy. The stimulation of the questions, lights, voices, and everything else making all that noise had your brain running in overdrive at the moment. He looks up from checking your pulse at your wrist to see you watching him. 

“Shouldn’t you be sleepy-eyed and ready for rest now?” he murmurs. 

“Why do you use your fingertips to check my pulse instead of one of the oximeters that does that?” You deflect the question with one of your own, not wanting to discuss your insomnia yet again. 

His smile tells you he isn’t fooled. You didn’t expect him to be, but knew he’d let it go. He tended to indulge you, and other Enhanced agents, like this and you appreciated it. It made a difference to have someone like him on your side these days. 

“It gives me a chance to evaluate you personally, not just what the machines tell me,“ he says softly. His fingers touch your side and press slightly. “Does that hurt much? Scale of 1 to 10.”

The pain in your side isn’t great, more like one of your friends poking you than on fire like it had been earlier. Still feeling the lovely morphine, you didn’t really care about the fire in your sides when you took a breath, so the dull ache of his nudge is nothing now. You smile at him, letting your eyelids droop as though you were sleepy. “Barely a 2, Doc. It’s like you’re trying to tickle me or something.”

Dr. Banner returns the smile with a chuckle and reduces the morphine amount on the charts for tomorrow. He knows your healing ability isn’t much compared to some, but still, less drugs is better in this case. You see him notate your papers and hang it back on the foot of the bed. He looks like he wants to talk some more, while you are ready to be alone.

“Gonna let me get some sleep now, Doc?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. He gives you an appraising glance, checks the monitors once more, then nods.

“I'll leave you alone for now, Y/N. But if you need me for anything…” He lets the sentence trail off and holds out his card. You take it and lay it by your phone, touched by the gesture. Without another word, he lets himself out.

The hours pass slowly as you wind down in the near silence of your room. It's not as dark as you'd like, but then hospitals never are. The SHIELD agent on guard outside your door isn't very noisy but with nothing else to distract you, it's easy to count his breaths and the steps he takes as he watches the halls. 

You're in a private suite at the corner of the building, for better security, and the room behind you is empty, also for security. Hospitals and infirmaries are nothing new to you, though you're used to being there with others. This time, all things considered, being alone is better.

At first, you thought to indulge in some tears, but when they refused to fall, you chalk it up to shock. The black hole in your memory when you thought about why you were here, what caused it, didn't help. It seemed like something out of a movie or like it happened to someone else. 

You finally drift off into some semblance of sleep after a few hours of letting your thoughts drift. It's more of a trance, as your brain is still busy cataloguing every sound it picks up. It does that when you get hyper-stimulated, making it necessary sometimes to use a sensory deprivation tank for real sleep.

When someone, no, two someones, start talking to the guard, it brings you instantly, quietly, into full alert. Your brain tells you these voices are familiar, though it doesn't supply faces to go with them. You wonder who they could be while you focus in on the conversation, labeling the voices to keep track of them. 

Agent: “Hey, you need IDs to be in this hallway! “  
A pause and his voice comes again: “What are you doing down this way?”

Murmurs pass between him and the two familiar voices, too jumbled together for you to catch and amplify before the first voice comes again, loud enough to be heard this time.

Voice 1, Dark Laughter: “We’re her doctors. We’ve come to check on her, make sure she is doing well. See, our badges.”

Voice 2, Sardonic Accent: “Do you think we’d approach so blatantly if we were trying to get past you? Have some sense, man.”

Agent: “These look like…”

Voice 1, Dark Laughter: “Like we work here. I told you, we are doctors. Her doctors. We’d like to see our patient now, if you don’t mind.”

The impatience in that voice is thick, making the words sharp. You are getting a bit impatient yourself, wanting to meet the man that went with that voice. You close your eyes, trying to imagine what he looks like. No sunshine and roses here, not like Dr. Banner’s, with his hope and cheer overlaying the dank smell of fertilizer and hiding thorns. Nor was it the solid home sounds of Captain America. Thankfully it wasn’t as dark as Fury’s. His voice always reminded you of embers and ashes, burning wood after a house fire. 

Your therapist, the counselor assigned to monitor your mental well-being as a SHIELD agent, said the way you catalogued sounds by smells they reminded you of could be a sign of synesthesia. You always shrugged off any suggestion to get tested, not caring enough to make it official.

The voice full of laughter and darkness sends thoughts of electricity and stormy skies shooting through you. Rainstorms are one of your favorite times, as the sounds are always full of water and thunder and the sizzle of lightning.

The second voice spoke again, pure British background hidden by an American upbringing, triggering memories of oiled wood and Lemon scented Pledge, with undertones of cedar and pine.

Voice 2, Sardonic Accent: “Listen, if we weren’t supposed to be here, don’t you think we’d have left instead of giving you so much flak? I mean, what kind of bad guy wants to stand around arguing about getting into a room?” 

Agent: “Hang on, I’m waiting for the checks to go through. Wait.”  
The silence is broken by the static of the agent’s radio. He speaks again.  
Agent: “Whelp, you’re good. Everything’s clear now. Go on in.”

The door handle turns and footsteps sound on the linoleum floor. Leather soles, both of them. The second set has a longer stride, meaning a taller body. The faster, shorter strides come on around the end of your bed, barely pausing as the chart is snatched from its hook. Whispers of cloth come to you as they stop at your side, followed by the shush of paper.

Dark Laughter mutters “Banner’s reduced the morphine. Cut it down to half, starting tomorrow morning.”

Sardonic Accent replies in a whisper “That’s good. Indicates she’s tolerating the implants well so far.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Dark Laughter scoffs as another page turns, “though he just might be erring on the side of caution. Give her some Advil or something if she needs so no one says anything about it.” 

The longer strides step around the bed to the monitors and Sardonic Accent speaks from there, sorting out in your mind that he is the taller of the two. “Her vitals are steady. Even from earlier when they did that ridiculous press conference, she didn’t have any twinges recorded or indications of sharp pains…” His voice trails off from quiet into nothingness.

You catch a low growl, of anger or disgust, you’re not sure, from Dark Laughter on your left. “I cannot believe they,” he pauses and grumfs again, “well, yes I can. Damn SHIELD! Just, they shouldn’t have. At least they didn’t take her down to the press room.” His voice is filled with an overprotective quality that has you wondering if he treated all his patients like this. You resist opening your eyes, not wanting him to clam up and withdraw just yet.

He speaks again. “How soon can we get her moved over to the new ward in Sinai?” 

The slight weight of the chart thumps onto your legs and your hand is lifted up by the wrist. Expecting him to position his fingers to check your pulse, it’s a surprise when he takes your hand in his. You can feel his elbow resting on the railing, but your hand, your arm, is hanging free, the cool skin of your forearm touching the smooth silkiness of what you presume is his jacket sleeve. That’s not your focus, though. 

His hand is warm, holding yours firmly in its grip. Your callouses feel so rough and harsh against the smoothness of his palm. He scrubs his hands everyday multiple times, you remind yourself, pushing away the creeping sense of embarrassment that wants you to pull your hand from his and tuck them under your legs. Then he does place his fingers on your pulse and your heart skips a beat. From your right, at the monitors, a chuckle comes from Sardonic Accent.

“What? You laughing at me taking a pulse the old-fashioned way?” Dark Laughter scoffs in what barely qualifies as a whisper. “If it’s good enough for Banner…” he pauses at another chuckle. “You better hush or you’ll wake her up.” he scolds his partner.

You can’t help it as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You hope he isn’t watching you, not wanting him to let go of your hand. The warmth from his grip has slid down your arm and is causing heat to rise in your gut. 

“Um, it’s a little late for that,” Sardonic Accent says.

“What?” Dark Laughter’s query is half-distracted. You assume he’s looking at his watch, his forearm having turned against yours.

“She isn’t asleep.”


	4. Down - Verse 1 - part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 1
> 
> Didn't even really wanna go  
> But if you get me out, you get a show  
> There's so many bodies on the floor  
>  **So baby we should go and add some more**
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> Warning: still more hospital stuff and fluff; a hint of mystery

You open your eyes at the sudden stillness by your bedside and find warm, brown eyes staring at you, amusement in their depths. Crow-foot wrinkles at their corners crinkle as the amusement spreads to the rest of his face. You smile back, taking his appearance in and comparing it to the mental image you had in your head from his voice.

The goatee is a surprise, as are the glasses. You’d expected him to be older, so that’s a nice adjustment. He catches you assessing him and raises an eyebrow. It hard to breath, or is that your stomach climbing up into your throat. Your heart feels like it’s pounding now and you try to take a deep breath, only to feel that burning sensation flash across your chest. Short, sharp coughs rack you and his smile turns to concern.

“Stephen, check her respiration!” His command is to the other, standing by the machines. He grips your hand tighter and pulls, rolling you onto your side facing away from him. Drawing in a deep breath, you’re able to fill your lungs now and expel the phlegm that had clogged your throat. The pat on your back is firm and causes you to flinch at the sudden pain.

“Ow! Ow!” you exclaim, arching your back away from the man behind you. He lets you roll back to your resting position. The concern in his eyes is genuine. He still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry about that. I don’t even know…” He stammers and stutters out apologetic phrases so quickly they almost run together.

You find yourself squeezing his hand, a slight smile touching the corners of your mouth. “No, no, I’m fine,” you murmur. His relief at you speaking is instantly visible.

He grins, looking even younger as he does. Whatever he was going to say is interrupted by Sardonic Accent from behind you.

“Her respiration is fine. She’s just a bit congested.” Stephen, you remind yourself, and turn to put a face to the name and the voice.

Blue eyes, sharp as steel, stare at you. Your breath catches in your chest again, though this time you know it’s not from some stray fleck of spit. How is it possible you’ve gotten so lucky as to have two handsome doctors? This one’s face is longer, his cheekbones higher, sharper. And that nose! Regal is the word that comes to mind when you take it all in and evaluate it.

“Hi,” comes out of your mouth before you realize you’ve spoken.

“Well, hello,” comes from your left, from the one still holding your hand. The one on the right, Stephen, shifts gears and puts a smile on his face. His bedside face, you think. Not a friendly one, but full of confidence. He ducks his head down and then looks up at you, sharp blue eyes catching everything.

You turn your head back to the one by your side. Giving him your best party smile, you hold out your hand. “Hello, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet the ones that saved my life.”

Tony grins, laughs, finds himself caught by both hands as you shake his right one and hold onto his left one. That smile you gave him is making his heartbeat do triple time as Stephen takes a step and closes the gap to the bedside.

“Yes,” Tony answers, “we are the ones that saved you. Well, Stephen here did all the heavy lifting. But the vibranium rods in your ribcage was definitely my idea, and my design. I’m Tony, by the way. Tony Stark, M.D., among other things.” He releases your right hand and holds his out to Stephen. “This lurking genius is Stephen. Dr. Stephen Strange.”

You turn and hold out your free hand to the blue-eyed genius. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Strange!” Your voice doesn’t shake, despite the quivering you’re feeling deep in your gut. Dr. Stark spoke so fast it was disconcerting. Stephen, Dr. Strange, took your hand and gave it a firm shake, letting it go at just the right moment. The smile he gives you barely touches his mouth, though a spark lights his eyes, steel against flint.

“Pleasure,” he murmurs.

Dr. Stark is talking again, drawing your attention to him. “I take it everything reads normal?”

Dr. Strange nods, folding his arms against his chest. “Yes, as much as possible.”

“Good.” Dr. Stark nods and squeezes your hand. “It may not seem like Stephen is happy, but trust me, he’s as excited as I am about this.”

“Wait, wait, what did you say? About my ribcage?” Your brain has caught up to Stark’s ramblings and you’re in need of some clarification. You close your eyes and wave your free hand at them both. When you open them, both men are watching you.

Tony, Dr. Stark you remind yourself, has the goofiest grin on his face and Dr. Strange has the look of suppressed laughter squinting his eyes, his mouth holding back a potential grin. Your eyes dart back and forth a couple of times before Dr. Stark loses it and starts laughing softly.

When you try to pull your hand away from his, he tightens his grip slightly, but instead of letting go, he allows you to pull his hand down next to you. His eyes challenge you to remove your hand from his and you wonder if he’s claiming you somehow. You get a hollow feeling in your gut at this thought, like what you feel before jumping from a plane or off a building, before the parachute kicks in and slows your descent. Pushing that aside, you focus back on the question.

“Fury said you placed titanium in my ribs, but you said…” you start up, only to be interrupted by Dr. Stark.

“Titanium? Is that what I said to the good Director?” Tony glances over at Stephen, suppressing his laughter, just barely, by pressing his lips together. His eyes twinkled with it as he looks back at you. It excites him that you haven’t tossed his hand away and the hollow excitement in his chest has morphed into a warm fuzzy feeling burning down into his core. You’re quick on the uptake, always a bonus, and aren’t afraid to speak up. He’d found you intriguing since the first time he saw you and the positives kept adding up. Forcing himself to focus on the question, instead of the furrow in your forehead and the pout on your lips, he continues.

“Well, there is titanium in there, as a sheath for the bones to grow back around, yes. But the main core of each of your ribs is now a thin sliver of vibranium. Your sternum is mostly vibranium, as a seat for the arc reactor. That should be able to hold things together until the slivers still lodged in your heart muscle are shifted out enough to be removed without further damage. Say in about a year or so.”

His grin, lopsided and self-effacing, tells you he is inordinately proud of his work. It also tells you he isn’t used to being appreciated for his genius, his talents. You know that feeling, know the lack of trust in what you can do, the lack of faith from others. It’s why you hid your abilities for so long, until you could hide no longer.

A sensation that had nothing to do with pain or medication shoots through you. With a slight shake of your head you push it away, blaming the drugs and the lack of memory. You have more questions and refuse to let some imaginary emotion distract you.

“Why?” you ask.

A curious look comes over Dr. Stark’s face, sort of a quirky half-smile. His gaze drops to your hand, still held in his. In the silence you look over to Dr. Strange and find him covering his mouth. Amplification provides you with the chuckle that he is also muffling. Intrigued and baffled, you look back at Dr. Stark. He is watching you carefully, as if you are dangerous, or unstable, and he’s uncertain of your reaction.

“Well?” you prompt, impatience tinging your voice.

“You saved my life,” Dr. Stark murmurs, his gaze dropping to your linked hands once again. “There in Venezuela.” He shrugs in self-deprecation. “Along with almost a hundred others, of course.”

“Did I now? You were there?” You ask questions to get him to talk. Mind blank, you paste your smile on, desperate to remember something, anything now, about that day. Nothing comes to light. When he nods, you force a grin. “I guess I’m the lucky one then, saving the life of the doctor that saved mine. Sounds like we’re even.”

Tony shakes his head. “Maybe.”

Stephen chimes in. “I for one, am eternally grateful you did, Y/N. Saved me from having to find another roommate.”

You look over at Dr. Strange, surprised by the depth of emotion you detect in his voice. His face is sincere, though it hasn’t changed much from earlier. Glancing back, you catch a sincere look of amusement and affection on Dr. Stark’s face. It would seem the two doctors are close. Which begs the question of why Tony, Dr. Stark, is still holding your hand.

Shying away from that line of thinking, ignoring Dr. Stark’s hand resting on your stomach, still held in yours, you ask your question again.

“Why?”

“Because I…” Dr. Stark began, then was interrupted by Dr. Strange.

“He’s with Doctors Without Borders.” Those blue eyes are piercing you as you turn your gaze back to him. He looks expectantly at his friend, his roommate, waiting for him to back up the statement. You aren’t sure if he’s lying, only that the truth he is presenting you isn’t complete. Tony, Dr. Stark, you have a hard time reminding yourself to call him by his formal name, as informal as he’s being with you, repeats the phrase.

“Yes, I am with Doctors Without Borders.” An odd pause, then he continues. “They had me down there helping out. I got caught in the area when the fighting broke out.”

Again you feel like the words being said don’t quite match up with the meaning behind them. Your head is feeling loopy now so it could be that. Could be the overstimulation you’ve been feeling since you woke up is finally catching up to you. Could be the drugs, though they’ve never made you feel like this before. Then again, you’ve never had your ribcage lined with vibranium before.

The last thought triggers the last question you have for him, for them.

“Okay but how do you know this is going to work? How can you just put this arc reactor thing in me, in my chest and tell me it’s going to wiggle some slivers of who know what out of my heart muscle?” You feel panicky, feel the anxiety and fear gripping you. The only thing that seems real, seems solid, is the warm grip of Dr. Stark’s, of Tony’s, hand in yours. Unknowingly, you’ve gripped it tighter in your hand, to your chest now, as everything looms up before you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Tony places his free hand on yours, cover it. His gaze is sharp now, truthful.

“I know it seems a bit strange, but I’m asking you to trust me. I can tell you, truthfully, from experience, this will work on you. The arc reactor will take some getting used to, but it will work. I promise you.”

Your chest is tight, you can’t breath. Clinging to his hands, to the strength showing in his eyes, you feel tears slide down your cheeks. How can you trust him? How could he do this to you? The coolness of pure oxygen washes into your nose as Dr. Strange drapes a mask over your face. Still you hold onto those hands gripping yours, unable to speak, unable to do anything but let the tears fall, though you could die from the embarrassment, from the show of weakness.

Tony had seen your blankness when he mentioned being saved by you. The smile you wore was perfection even as your eyes grew distant and cool, your voice becoming nonchalant. It was proof to him of your excellent training how well you hide the fact that you couldn’t remember anything that he was talking about. The panic attack after that was not unexpected.

He knew he needed to draw you back out, get you back to thinking instead of reacting. Watching the tears slip from your eyes, eyes that were latched onto his, gave him the impetus to show you how to trust him. Raising his hand from where it was covering yours, guessing that you didn’t realize you were holding his one hand with both of yours now, he pulled at the tail of his shirt.

“This is how I know it will work,” he stated. Lifting his shirt up, he revealed an arc reactor identical to yours, embedded in his chest.

The sight of that arc reactor hits you full on, shocking away the panic and the tears. Taking a full breath of oxygen-laced air, you raise your eyes from the arc reactor nestled in that amazingly sexy chest, to those warm brown eyes filled with confidence and assurance.

“You, you’re, so you…” the words stutter from your mouth as you try to decide what to say and speak at the same time. Pausing to shake your head, to comprehend what you are seeing and what it means, you glance around at the man behind you. Oddly enough, he isn’t shocked, or maybe it isn’t so odd. Instead he is holding a hand over his mouth again and shaking his head. You turn back to Tony, who bounces his eyebrows up and down a couple of times, that goofy smile back to light up his face.

“So,” you start off slowly this time, “you have one, I have one. Don’t tell me,” you feel a tension pulling at you while you think it through. “You built the Iron Man suit.”

Tony’s look of baffled bemusement is priceless.


	5. Down - Verse 2 - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 2  
>  **You know we could put them all to shame**  
>  Now isn’t the time to play it safe  
> Isn’t this the reason why you came?  
> So, baby, don’t you let it go to waste
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
>  
> 
> [Physical Therapy after Lung Transplantation](http://columbiasurgery.org/lung-transplant/physical-therapy-after-lung-transplantation)  
> [Post-Transplant Recovery](http://columbiasurgery.org/lung-transplant/post-transplant-recovery)  
> [The Road to Recovery - Rehabilitation after Lung Transplantation](http://www.ishlt.org/ContentDocuments/2016JanLinks_Fuller.html)

Therapy began for you three days after you met Tony and Stephen, mostly because they insisted but also because you tried walking out of your room when they wouldn’t give you real food to eat. You also caused a lot of panic, unnecessary in your eyes, when you decided to take walks around the floor to alleviate your boredom. The hospital couldn’t transfer you to the Sinai Recovery Unit fast enough. 

From the beginning, everyone in the PT room made it clear this wasn’t how things were normally done, which seemed to amuse Tony to no end. He and Stephen made it a point to come with you on the first day, which you expected since they were the ones making it happen. When day 21 came around and they had been there almost every single day except when one of them had surgery, you began to wonder if they had an ulterior motive. 

Truth be told, you were glad for their visits, as they were the only thing that kept you from going stir-crazy. The facilities at the Sinai Recovery Unit were top-notch, but bland and sanitized and ultimately, boring. As a SHIELD agent, you’ve been around the world and then some, always on the move, always getting into and out of trouble. Your usual companions still had their jobs, their assignments to take care of, so hadn’t been able to find much time to visit. Understandable, but not helpful to realize it as you wandered around the unit’s public areas, your posture stiffened by the brace your physical therapist insisted you wear to keep you from slumping in your seat. 

Tony had remarked on your rapid improvement the last time he’d been in to visit a couple of days ago. You blew him off by laying the credit at his feet for the arc reactor giving you a boost to your immune system. He dropped the subject, though you wonder if he believed you. You didn’t worry enough to ask, as he kept up the corny banter and jokes while you did your therapy until you forgot about it. 

On your off-days from PT, you ended up staying in your room most of the day, bored of being around other rehab nurses, patients, and visiting family members. Instead you try some of your old exercise routines, wanting to see how much of your previous strength has really returned. You had put in a request at SHIELD for a desk position until you were cleared for active duty again, but that had yet to make its way through channels for a reply. Trying out a handstand to test your balance and arm strength, you are interrupted by the chime used to request entrance to your room. 

“Yes?” you reply, a bit out of breath as you quickly return to an upright position. The handstand had been mostly successful with only a bit of shakiness in your forearms and minimal loss of breath.

“You have a visitor, Y/N,” came the response from the admittance nurse, your watchdog for this floor. “A Natasha Romanov, says she’s your co-worker?”

The grin that breaks out on your face is welcome, as is Natasha. “Let her in, please and thanks.”

The door opens soon after and Nat walks through, grinning as broadly as you are. “Y/N!” 

“Nat!” you both scream it at the same time and hug each other tightly. She stops abruptly, letting her arms go slack around your waist.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to squeeze so tightly,” she says, looking chagrined.

“Please,” you scoff, “I’m not as fragile as everyone makes me out to be. You should know that by now.” You let her go, leaving one arm around her waist, glad for the contact as you lead her over to the couch and sit down, pulling her with you. “Tell me, what brings you this way besides keeping me company?”

“Oh, like you’re so lonely,” Nat laughs. “I’ve heard about your friendly doctors and how they always show up for your PT.” Her grin is suggestive, bolstered by the wiggling of her eyebrows.

You blush, knowing she was referring to Tony and Stephen. You had created quite the stir in the hospital you’d had your surgery in and here at the recovery unit. Apparently, your rapid recovery and demand for real food was unusual, as was being accompanied by two of the best surgeons in the world. It didn't hurt that they were both super easy on the eyes. 

Since Director Fury had seen fit to leave you there instead of transferring you back to the Avengers HQ, telling you to treat it like an assignment and not reveal more than was needed to anyone not cleared to your level, true to your training, you remained silent and alert. Now, Natasha was here, grinning at you and holding out an envelope. 

“Yay!” you exclaimed, reaching for it. She dances it out of your reach, laughing.

“Noooo, not until you tell me about these doctors of yours.” Her eyes are twinkling mischievously. 

“They aren’t mine,” you protest, then stopped and tried again. “Well, they are my doctors but they just want to make sure their experiment doesn’t fail.” 

“Unh-huh, sure,” Nat sounds unconvinced. “That’s not why they come to visit you nearly everyday. Especially Dr. Stark. Hmmm?”

You blush again. Dr. Stark, Tony, was especially nice to see during your PT sessions. He kept you going with his snarky, funny quips and earnest encouragement. 

“Oh, ho ho, I see that blush. Share those dirty thoughts,” Natasha teased, grinning from ear to ear and leaning in closer. 

Ducking your head, you chuckle and blush even more. Thoughts of Tony come to mind, his gentle hands, quirky deprecating smile, that twinkle in his eyes that lit up when he laughed. Your right thumb rubs your left palm as you remember the feel of his hand holding yours. “No, no dirty thoughts, just lots of help getting through this crap-tastic non-assignment. He’s been great company.” 

You look up in time to see Nat evaluating you like you’re a new recruit. Feeling pinned like a butterfly, you protest. “I’m serious! We aren’t dating or anything, he just holds my hand for comfort. It helps me…” you trail off when she quirks an eyebrow up at your stream of words. 

“Anyway,” you say, making a grab for the envelope, “let me see what you brought me.”

She allows you to grab it and grins as you rip it open. You have to restrain yourself from tearing it in half, just in case it contained necessary information, but finally it yields up its contents. Staring at the page, it takes you a moment or two to comprehend what it is telling you. 

“I’m being transferred to the skyship!” You say the words out loud to make them real. It’s hard for you to believe, as the wait list for these assignments are unimaginably long, but there it is, in black and white, well more of a creamy beige your mind notes, on fancy stationary. You have received the best desk job one could ever expect with SHIELD. 

“I know!” Nat was bouncing on the cushion next to you, holding your hands as you breathed and laughed so hard it made you cough. She started to pat you on the back, then stopped, a worried look on her face. 

Catching your breath, you smile. “It’s okay to pat my back, Nat. I’m really not an invalid anymore. I just have to play the part until…” you check your papers again, still not quite believing your good fortune, “three days from now.” 

Nat laughs and hugs you. “I am so happy! We get to hang out more now.” 

Pulling back, you give her a serious look. “Really?”

“Yup, got my transfer papers as well today. Though I won’t be at a desk, console, whatever.” Her smile gave it away.

“You get to work with the Avengers!” you practically shout the words.

“Hush,” Nat says, her finger on her lips, though her grin is so wide you can almost see all her teeth. 

“That does it,” you declare, “we’re ordering Chinese take-out and ice cream to celebrate.” You picked up your phone from the side table. “And I don’t even care about the hospital rules and regulations. They can jump off a cliff.”

Nat grinned some more and began rattling off her order to you. 

************************************************************

 

Walking into your PT session the next day, feeling like you were bouncing off the floor and just barely restraining yourself from whistling, you are surprised to see Stephen there by himself. It was a Wednesday, normally the one day Tony always took off unless an emergency came up, so not seeing him here was disappointing to say the least. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Stephen greets you with his usual formality, leaning down to kiss your cheek, one hand on your shoulder. His reserved nature was a direct opposite to Tony's, though you find it refreshing in a quaint, unassuming way. In public, Stephen was anything but unassuming, as he was usually arrogant, opinionated and snobby. You'd found that to be a front, confirmed by Tony calling him an introvert with extrovert goals.

“Hello, Stephen,” you murmur, kissing his cheek. The smell of his cologne tingles your nose and other, more primal, senses, reminding you how long it's been since, well, anything. The last date you'd been on was months ago now. You didn't even want to think how long it's been since your last time for more than a kiss. 

“You're rather distracted this morning,” Stephen says, taking off his coat and laying on the couch. You begin stretching as he sits down on the one chair in the room. The therapist is at her desk, entering your vitals. Stephen leans forward. “Anthony's going to be a bit late, I'm afraid. He had an errand to run.”

A smile touches your lips at this news. It had taken a few minutes the first time Stephen had used Tony's full name for you to realize and connect the dots. Now you knew and found it endearing. “Good, I'm glad you'll both be here. I have some great news!” 

Your grin is met by a worried look, quickly hidden by a smile, one you know is merely for display. Stephen clasps his hands, his eyes on the floor for a moment. When he looks at you again, his gaze is warm though concern lurks in their depths.

“Well that's good. We've got a bit of news for you as well, though it's probably nothing against yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, absentmindedly stretching while trying to keep yourself from showing too much flexibility or strength. Looking back over your shoulder at Stephen, you see his uncertain happiness and squint at him, trying to discern what could be the cause. The therapist chose that moment to come over and compliment you on how well you were doing. After that, you had to focus on your therapy, so didn’t get much chance to study him until Tony came in.

He was even more exuberant than normal, greeting everyone with high-fives and pats on the shoulder, his grin so infectious no one could resist it. He grinned at you and sat down next to Stephen, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. Stephen smiled and shook his head, causing Tony to laugh and grin even more. 

“Y/N, pay attention please.” Your therapist prompts you, following up with a deep stretch to your hamstring. If you hadn’t been stretching them in your room, it might have hurt. As it was, you groan a bit to make her feel better. 

“Sorry, I was distracted,” you mumble for an excuse. 

“I don’t blame you a bit,” she says, winking and nodding in Tony’s direction. She breaks out in a blush and grins and you crane your head around in time to see him grinning at both of you. 

You chuckle. “He’s such a dork.”

“He’s adorable,” she gushes, “you need to jump on that as soon as possible. He might even clear you early if you ask him to.” This was followed by a wink from her, making you blush and look away. You’d thought about it, heavens above had you thought about it. What made you hesitate was the difference in your status. Here he was, a prominent doctor and businessman, filthy rich and highly eligible for any woman in his elite circle of society. 

You, you’re just a government employee, a grunt, working for peanuts. On top of that, you are an Enhanced human, one of a sub-class that hasn’t had much good press lately. The rescue down in Venezuela, not that you remembered it yet, had to have involved you using your sonic ability, though the press hadn’t touched on that, but Tony didn’t act like he even knew anything about that. The thought of him rejecting you once he found out was painful enough to keep your mouth shut and to make you hold him at arm's length, friends only for now. 

“Well, we’re done here,” your therapist announced. “See you again tomorrow.” As she stood up from where she’d been crouching over your supine body, you look up to see Tony and Stephen approaching. You wiggle your fingers in a friendly wave just as she turns to them.

“Here to celebrate Y/N’s good news?” She flashes a smile over her shoulder at you and you’re sure there’s a bit of jealousy in her voice as she continues. “Three more days and she’ll be done here. Then she can go back to work and finish her recuperation there.” Leaning over to you, she gives you a smirk and picks up the towel from the floor next to you. As she walks away, you catch a slip of Tony’s smile as her words sink in. 

He holds out a hand to you, as usual, and pulls you to your feet. Hanging onto your hand, he pulls you close for his usual hug. You can feel him trembling as you wrap your free arm around his shoulder. Again the tingle of cologne, after-shave, his scent, all mingling together and igniting desire deep inside you. Ignoring it as just needing a bit of something to settle your nerves, you give him a peck on the cheek, much like what Stephen and you exchange all the time. The blush response is a surprise and so is him letting go of your hand to wrap his other arm around your waist and hold you close. 

It lasts for only a moment, not nearly long enough for you to stop and breath, before he steps back. His hand goes to his pocket and the grin is back, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and pleasure. There’s another emotion there as well, one that has your heart racing and a flush burning through you. You aren’t ready to examine it yet, so you go for a distraction.

“So, Stephen says you have something for me? Some great news?” you wiggle your eyebrows and nibble at your lower lip. Tony’s response, his eyes darting to your lips before coming back to meet your gaze, his barely heard gasp, excites you as you realized he finds that titillating. 

He clears his throat and holds up something taken from his pocket. “Stephen and I, we’ve talked it over and well,” he held out his free hand, wiggling his fingers to encourage you to place your hand in it. When you do, he holds the object from his pocket over it. “We want you to come stay with us. Here’s your keys.”


	6. Down - Verse 2 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 2  
> Everywhere I look are people's hands  
>  **Thrown up in the air to help them dance**  
>  Come on, baby, catch me if you can  
> I know you don't have any other plans
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Stunned, you watch the key fob, with two keys and a plastic card, drop into your palm. You feel like you’ve just caught a dream that you never figured to catch. It takes you a few moments before you can speak as Tony and Stephen watch you. There’s a lump in your throat and emotions are washing over you like the tide has just come in. Blinking back tears, your hand closes over the keys. 

“I’m, I am honored, truly I am,” you speak softly, overwhelmed by the gesture, by the two of them with their kindness, generosity, attentiveness, all of everything they’ve done for you, including saving your life with their revolutionary procedure. 

“This,” you wave your hand that is holding keys to a new life, “makes my news seem, well, pale and maybe a little selfish.” You have to stop as the tears collect in your throat, closing off your words.

“Tell us and then we can go out to eat,” Tony gushes, waving away your objection. “You aren’t the selfish type, so don’t even think that.”

Stephen, standing just a little behind his good friend, gives you a look filled with empathy and maybe a little pity. His smile is hesitant but sincere. “Go on, Y/N, tell us your good news.”

You bite your lips, something you haven’t done since you were a nervous teenager trying to talk to someone you liked. “Well, as my therapist so awkwardly spilled the beans on, I am getting released in three days.” When they both nod, you realize they had already known. “It seems that I’m the last to know this.” They both have the grace to look embarrassed at being called out on this. 

You continue before they can speak and before you lose your nerve. “I received my new assignment for SHIELD. I’m being transferred up to the skyship ENTERPRISE as the Lead Executive Assistant for Communications. First Class rank, Level 7.” 

“Wow! That is wonderful news! Congratulations on the assignment and the promotion.” Stephen steps gracefully into the awkward silence that had followed your words, taking you by the elbows and laying a kiss on each of your cheeks. After the second kiss, he murmurs in your ear, “It’ll be alright. Do what you need to.” 

You look up at him and catch a wink as he gives you a fond smile. Clearing his throat, Tony steps up and slides past Stephen to take you into another hug. This one is full-blown, arms around your waist, Tony’s chin on your shoulder. His hands slide up your back, sending warmth up and down your spine. It seems natural to slide your arms up around his neck and step in close, your chin coming to rest in the hollow of his collarbone. When his hands spread out over your spine, yours splay over his shoulders and you breath in this time, catching his scent. 

You amplify the sound of his heartbeat that you can feel under your palms, only to be surprised that you can hear his arc reactor as well. You’ve been hearing yours for several weeks now and it has become part of you, but you remember how it sounded for the first few days. It’s humming now and you wonder if it shouldn’t be this close to Tony’s. As you think that, Tony pulls you hard against him and the edges of your reactors touch, producing a pure tone that sends shivers through your entire body. 

“Oh!” you let out a gasp just as Tony inhales sharply. Shifting slightly, you settle in his arms and it’s what you imagined coming home should feel like. For a long moment, you simply close your eyes, your lips touching his neck, feeling his pulse, your forehead resting against the muscles of his shoulder and breath. The feel of his lips returning the favor has your heart jumping and pounding even as you relax against his firm body, allowing him to be your support. You know it can’t last, but just for a moment, you allow yourself this fantasy.

The thing you knew, more than anything Tony could offer, is that your loyalty to SHIELD overrode everything. You owed SHIELD your life and you had sworn an oath to remain loyal. This more than getting a dream job, more than being back in the field, made you release your hold on this man, one that you could love and live with, made you let go and step back. 

Tony’s groan was low, though you could hear it easily. His hands slide from around you but remain at your hips, holding onto you. You meet his gaze, seeing the warmth, the emotion there. It tears at you and you have to close your eyes to look away. 

“Thank you, Tony,” you murmur, “and Stephen, for such a fantastic offer. I, I don’t know how to thank you for everything.” You take another step back, feeling Tony’s hands drop away. It reminds you of the first time you jumped from a plane, not having any experience in parachuting. That same sinking sensation was in your stomach now as you said the words you needed to say. “But my new orders won’t allow me to take you up on your offer.” 

Holding out the keys he’d given to you, you look at Stephen,hoping, no - knowing he’d be open to hearing what you had to say. “I have to report to the skyship in three days. I’m sorry.” 

You allow yourself, force yourself to look at Tony. He stood, head down and fists clenched as you said your piece. When he hears your apology, he looks up, eyes moist. “No, you don’t have to be sorry. You can still come stay with us. You can go to work and just come home everyday. You don’t have to stay on the skyship. You don’t have to leave…” he holds out his hands to you, “don’t leave me,” he whispers. 

Stephen steps in, turning to face Tony, taking his hands in his own. You see the hurt in Tony’s eyes as he breaks free of Stephen's restraint to hold out his hands again to you and feel your face, your brave facade, begin to crumble. That’s the last thing you can allow to happen. If you give in to your emotions right now, you could walk away from everything you’d worked for. Steeling yourself, bracing your emotions, barring them from coming out, you place the keys in Tony’s outstretched hand and fold your fingers over his, locking them around the keys. 

“Thank you, Tony,” you mumble, amplifying the sound just enough for him to hear you, “for everything.” Taking a step back, you turn and flee, back to your room, to what is waiting there for you. 

Behind you, because you’ve amplified the sound around them, though you aren’t sure why except out of some strange need to torture yourself, you hear Tony’s clothes whisper against Stephen’s as he turns and lets out a heart-wrenching sob, muffled by Stephen’s shoulder and the cloth covering it. Stephen’s murmured assurance that this was for the best and to let you go doesn’t help, except to cause a twinge of jealousy and stab your gut with more pain and anxiety. 

You knew this was the way things should be, but why did it have to hurt so much? You ask yourself this question as you fall onto your bed and sob yourself to sleep.

*****************************************************

Seven meals, three therapy sessions, two more horrible nights and three sunrises later, you’re walking out onto the helipad at the top of the Sinai Recovery Unit with Natasha and Directory Fury. You’d been surprised to see Fury, but apparently he considered you high enough priority to see onto the skyship himself. Natasha had been in touch the last couple of days, helping you make it through the depression that had settled on you since the offer from Tony and Stephen. 

She’d come to see you the next day when you hadn’t wanted to get out of bed for your session with the therapist. When she arrived and you had blubbered out the whole story, you’d expected her to tell you to suck it up. Instead, she’d held you and let you cry it out, then asked you why you had made the decision to stay. At your response, she’d wiped your tears away with her hand, then leaned in close.

“It’s a good choice, Y/N, for now. But think about it. Don’t forget this sacrifice. Eventually you will change your mind. Just be prepared for the consequences.” Her eyes spoke volumes to you when you leaned back and looked at her in surprise. 

“What…?” You began to question, only for her to place her finger on your mouth. Just then, your therapist and her boss came into your room. Your therapist apologized for her treatment of you the day before and after she left, her boss informed you that you’d be working with him for the last two days of your treatment. He leaves after advising you to meet him in a couple of hours, and you look over to find Natasha smirking. 

She never did explain that smirk, you think as you wait on the helipad. You look over at her speaking with the Director nonchalantly and wonder if you'll ever be that comfortable with him and the rest of the crew. Then the Quinjet lands and you're being escorted onto the ship and there's no more time for wondering. The Quinjet launches straight up into the air and you're off to start the next chapter of your life.

Staring out the window, wondering how Tony and Stephen are doing, you see the glint of sunlight off shiny metal and Iron Man shoots past the Quinjet, then slows down until you’ve caught up. In the seat ahead of you, Director Fury curses softly.

“What the hell is he doing here? Is he trying to cause trouble?” 

No one would have heard him if you hadn’t been listening to everyone in the Quinjet. It was something you did when entering a new situation that allowed you to gather intel rapidly and more easily than most other agents. Oh so casually, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs to turn your body away from the Director and ease your ear closer, amping up the volume on sound from his area. As you are getting situated, Nat comes bouncing over.

“Hello, Director Fury!” she exclaims, tossing him a wave of her hand before coming to stand in front of you. “Enjoying the ride, Y/N?” 

You look up at her, a bemused and frustrated look on your face as Director Fury stands and heads to the cabin. Once he’s out of earshot for normal voices, you blink and raise your eyebrows at your best friend.

“Now why did you do that? He had no idea I was behind him.”

“And listening to him talk to himself, I’m sure.” Nat quips, leaning over to look out the window just in time to see Iron Man pull off several barrel rolls and a 720 loop-de-loop. “Ha! Show-off!” 

You watch the show Iron Man is putting on, wondering what the reason was for this special attention until Natasha drops into the seat next to yours. Watching him fly had always been your secret pleasure. He made it look so effortless and fun, but based on stories from your friends, the man in the suit was arrogant and conceited, a real jerk. You were willing to give just about anyone a chance to live down their reputation, so this new assignment should prove interesting.

Looking over your shoulder, Nat scoffed at his antics. “I can't believe he's still out there. Usually he gets bored after the first couple minutes and leaves. I can't imagine why he hasn't yet.” 

The cool disdain in her voice isn't enough to cover up the sarcasm you hear, though you aren't sure where it's directed. You turn your head and study her for several moments, until she gets twitchy and finally meets your eyes. Instead of getting defensive, she grins at you.

“So tell me, Y/N, what was Tony Stark doing in Venezuela that put him in the position of you rescuing him?”


	7. Down - Verse 2 - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 2  
> Everywhere I look are people's hands  
> Thrown up in the air to help them dance  
>  **Come on, baby, catch me if you can**  
>  I know you don't have any other plans
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> Warnings: angst; mystery; suspicion

_“So tell me, Y/N, what was Tony Stark doing in Venezuela that put him in the position of you rescuing him?”_

Natasha’s question echoes for what seems like eternity in your head while she grins at you, waiting for your response. The rise of panic from your gut up into your throat is almost enough to make you stammer out some protest, before Dr. Strange’s words come to your rescue.

“He’s with Doctors Without Borders. They were down there helping with the victims of the rebellion.” You even manage to put some smugness into your answer, smirking at her and tossing your hair back. 

It didn’t last long, as Natasha returns the smirk. “So he was working with the victims? Then how did he end up in the group of hostages?”

You feel safe enough shrugging your shoulders at this one. “How should I know? We were all busy fighting those HYDRA goons. I didn’t even realize he was in that group until I met him and he told me.” 

Natasha shakes her head. “Fair enough. I still don’t know what made you jump in front of that explosion though. What were you thinking?”

“Obviously I wasn’t,” you retort, making a derpy face. “I was caught in the heat of the moment and I guess I thought my sonic blast would be strong enough to dissipate it.”

“Lesson learned, right?” Natasha gives you a piercing stare then leans in and grabs you in a hug. “Don’t ever do something that stupid again, Y/N, or I swear you’ll need more than a new ribcage.”

You return the hug, a mix of feelings weighing down your chest with emotion. Relief at Natasha not calling you out for lying about the incident mixing with the renewal of the bond you and she had shared over the past four years since you’d joined SHIELD at her invitation and underneath, fear and worry about how you would be able to continue this way. All these, along with an unexpected sense of loss at the thought of not seeing Tony and Stephen every day as you had been. The only way you make it the rest of the flight to the Enterprise’s current location without breaking out in tears is watching out the window as Iron Man pulls stunts with Natasha’s snarky commentary at your shoulder. 

*****************************************************

Natasha tracks down Directory Fury after seeing her protege settled into her new quarters on the skyship. He’s chatting with Captain Hill in his office at the back of the Ops room while the ship is getting underway to its destination coordinates, not that she knows where that is yet. She waits until Captain Hill leaves to address Fury.

“Y/L/N doesn’t remember what happened in Venezuela.” Her statement gets straight to the point. 

“I am aware of this, Romanov. Dr. Banner informed me of the situation the night of the press conference.” Fury seems unconcerned, reviewing the screen in front of him with a nonchalant expression that hides any true thoughts or emotions from Natasha’s trained eye.

“I’m not sure having her onboard is a good idea. Especially with you-know-who hanging around.” Natasha presses on, wondering why Fury would do this to you, one of his best agents. 

Fury pauses what he is doing and folds his hands together on his desk, staring at Natasha with a look that makes her a bit relieved he only has one eye to use for it. “If by you-know-who, you mean Iron Man, then between you, me, and these four walls, “ he pauses to glance around the room, driving home his point for secrecy, “he has a powerful ally in Tony Stark and Dr. Stark is one of three that signed off on Y/L/N’s return to active, restricted, duty.”

“If Stark signed off on her release, then what the hell was all that bullshit he gave back at the hospital about her moving in with him? What’s he playing at?” She is on her feet and leaning on Fury’s desk, in his face by the time she finishes speaking. Not one to back down for anything that isn't life threatening, her stance is stiff against any backlash he might give her. 

Fury remains unperturbed in the face of Natasha’s ire. “There was a question of loyalty and now it’s been answered.” He holds up his hand, stalling another outburst. “We are on the same side, Natasha, no matter how it may look. The thing is, not everyone around us is on our side. Now, more than ever, we need to know who we can trust. And, we need to know what really happened there in Venezuela. Right now, Y/L/N is the only eye witness we have. We need her memory back or whoever betrayed us there could strike again.” 

*************************************************

Tony arrives back at the penthouse apartment he shares with Stephen deep in thought, the automated system in the hidden room at the top of the tower removing the Iron Man suit from around him without a second thought from him. He makes his way downstairs and into the living room, only stopping his forward motion when he comes to the large tempered-glass window that looks out over the city. In the back of his mind, he acknowledges that Stephen is there in the room, but his thoughts are focused entirely inward. 

Over and over, he replays the scene of you folding the keys he had offered into his hand, your hand molding his fingers over them, your face stoic and withdrawn as you refuse to give into any emotions. Your words have become a blur, mostly because he is refusing to let them play out in his mind. When the scene becomes too much to bear, he shifts his mind to the moments he held you in his arms, your lips and breath warm on his neck, his nose buried in your hair, breathing deeply of your scent. He can feel his heartbeat in his neck, the rapid pulse striking counterpoint to the hum of his reactor. 

This leads him to contemplate the sound that the two reactors had made when they touched. He’d never heard that sound before, but now couldn’t forget it if he tried. It had held so much more significance than just affirming that the reactors were synchronized. His universe felt like it had been shifted back into alignment. He wonders if you felt the same. On some level he was sure you did, especially the way you had forced yourself to back away and break the physical contact before returning the keys. 

Bitterness floods his mouth and chest at the thought of having to force you to choose between your loyalty and him. Damn Fury, he thinks. Pain erupts in his hand, leaving his knuckles throbbing. He looks down to see he has punched the window, hard enough to bruise them. Flexing his hand, watching the interplay of his knuckle bones under his skin, his mind wandering as it collated data, time passes without notice. 

A cup filled with steaming liquid comes into view between his hands and the window. 

“This will bring more relief than punching a 3 inch pane of glass,” Stephen says, a tender note of laughter and concern in his voice.

“Thanks,” Tony says, taking the cup, “I could use some tea.” He isn't looking at Stephen, so misses the slight smirk and glimmer in his eyes as he takes a gulp.

“Holy…. What the hell?” Tony exclaims between gasps and pants. He sucks in a lungful of air and turns to give Stephen a baffled glare. “That is not tea!”

After a long moment where Stephen’s face goes through a quick series of expressions, a laugh finally escapes from him. “No. I figured you could use something stronger.”

“Thanks,” Tony murmurs, the scowl on his face giving the lie to his soft tone. He sips the concoction in the mug again, slower this time, enjoying the bite of the coffee and whiskey more this time, even though parts of his mouth protested the heat. 

Stephen leans against the window, watching Tony as he drinks the concoction, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I quite understand why you punched our window,” he mutters, loud enough for Tony to hear but still faint. 

Tony knows he is not wanting their conversation overheard and smirks. 

“What’s so amusing?” Stephen growls, even as he smiles in return.

“They can’t hear us talk when we stand here, you know,” Tony replies, covering another smirk with the cup as he drains its content. 

Stephen ducks his head and chuckles. “No I didn’t know, and you didn’t tell me,” he accuses.

“Oh? Didn’t I?” Tony faces the window, his smirk widening into a real smile. “It’s the way I designed the glass. It blocks out the noise of the city, and as an added bonus, keeps any sound made near it from traveling more than two or three feet. And,” he pauses to look over his shoulder, “all their bugs that I’ve left active are at least four feet from the window.”

Turning back to Stephen, the smile no longer on his face, Tony answers the question asked earlier. “”It upsets me that we had to manipulate [Y/N] just to prove her loyalty to SHIELD.” A sneer crosses his lips and travels up to his eyes, chilling their warm brown to black ice with his anger. “Fury couldn’t just accept the fact that she wouldn’t betray them if her own life depended on it.”

“Considering that it does, I can understand why he had you do it, Tony.” Stephen’s look of patience and acknowledgement was answered by a glare from the shorter man. He furrows his brows again. “You were actually hoping she’d accept our offer to move in, weren’t you?”

Tony’s disgruntled snarl, followed by an odd twist to his mouth as he turns away to head toward the kitchen is more than enough of an answer for Stephen. Following Tony into the kitchen, he waits while Tony washes his hands, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer until that particular task was completed to satisfaction. 

The hand washing takes just as long as if Tony were heading into surgery, one of the many small idiosyncrasies he had developed over the years. He blamed all the knowledge he had crammed into his brain about humans and their diseases for this one. Knowing how many germs were on his skin at any one time in any particular area made him itch if he thought about it for too long. Thus, he always scrubbed his hands thoroughly. 

It also gave him time to steady his nerves before answering Stephen. He had hoped you would take his offer over Fury’s, in his heart, though his head had told him from the start that you would prove your loyalty. This just meant he would have to prove that his feelings for you were worth more than loyalty to SHIELD, or to Fury.

With a sigh, Tony nods his head, still avoiding Stephen’s gaze. He leans on the counter by the sink, head drooping as he waits for his friend’s expected scoff. Instead he feels Stephen’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing with a comforting grip. 

“Hey, don’t fret so much about it,” Stephen murmurs, shifting to stand at Tony’s side. “You’ve been obsessed with [Y/N] for nearly four years now. What’s a few more days?”

“Or weeks? Or months?” When Stephen gives him a fake stern look, Tony chuckles and leans against Stephen. “Yes, Doctor, you’re right.”

Stephen hugs his best friend, then ruffles his hair. “And when I’m right…”

They finish the familiar chant together, “...you’re right!”


	8. Down - Verse 2 - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briefing Report: You are starting your new position as Lead Communications Officer onboard the skyship ENTERPRISE, determined to put behind you the developing relations between you and Dr. Tony Stark. Things get extra complicated when your former lover and leader of the Venezuelan rebels, Miles Morales, shows up on the skyship now working officially for SHIELD and awaiting his next assignment. (see Verse 1 - Part 2)
> 
> [Down - Verse 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpMfP6qUSBo)  
> Everywhere I look are people's hands  
> Thrown up in the air to help them dance  
> Come on, baby, catch me if you can  
>  **I know you don't have any other plans ******  
>   
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
>  Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Three weeks go by aboard the skyship ENTERPRISE and you’ve started to establish a routine - work, therapy, private time, repeat. You have quickly been singled out by Captain Maria Hill as her favorite Comm officer, much to your embarrassment and Natasha’s delight. Director Fury has even emailed you with congratulations on settling in so well. Everything is working out just fine.

Except it’s really not. You can’t seem to sleep, always waking from unremembered nightmares. An ache in your chest that doesn’t seem to be physical has become a serious distraction that leads to daydreams of brown eyes laughing, shadowed by blue eyes hiding a grin. By the fourth day, you are beginning to consider telling your psych counsellor about the lack of sleep. When Captain Hill has to remind you to take the comm log with you on your way down to Records, you make up your mind to do so right after this shift. 

Lost in thought as you make your way down to deliver the log to Records for storing until they can be copied and shredded, such an old-fashioned method of duplication in your opinion, you find yourself allowing your thoughts to wander off into wondering what Tony is up to right now. Suddenly your path is blocked by a dark-haired, russet-skinned man who is waving his hands at you, trying to get your attention. 

“Hello! Hey! [Y/N]! Earth to [Y/N]! Hello! It’s me!” 

His attempts to get your attention finally break through to your sleep-deprived brain and you stop just before running into his waving arms. Wide-eyed now, you stare at him and his unexpected apparition on the skyship. It takes a whole two seconds to convince yourself that you aren’t hallucinating before you greet him.

“Oh my goodness! Miles! What!?” Your squeals as you jump into his arms echo down the corridor, turning heads. Not that you care right now. You had been sure you’d never see Miles again, especially since your reassignment to the skyship. 

You hug him tightly, the papers you are holding now pressed against his back. He seems reluctant to hug you back and you realize you can feel your arc reactor pressing against his sternum, meaning he can feel it to. After the initial hesitation, when you refuse to let go of him, he returns the hug. Once you are certain he is real and is hugging you back, you ease off your grip on his shoulders and take a step back, resting your hands, papers still gripped in your left, on his forearms.

He grins down at you, bemused at your enthusiasm. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find his words now that he has your attention. 

“I cannot believe it’s you!” he finally starts off, holding your hands wide and looking you up and down in amazement. “I thought for sure you’d still be hospitalized after what happened in Venezuela. I mean, I saw the newscast but you can’t believe half the things they say these days. You look…” he pauses and swallows, his face serious now, “great. I mean it, now,” he insists as you shake your head at him. 

You know you’ve lost weight and the lack of sleep has left bags under your eyes like you were packing luggage. Still, it was nice to hear his sincerity. Shrugging at his compliments, your grin only growing wider, you find yourself hoping he doesn’t press for details on the fiasco that was your last mission. Fortunately, he is more interested in your current state of well-being than what happened to get you there. 

“I felt that thing in your chest, the…” he points at your sternum, the arc reactor glowing faintly through your uniform shirt. “You know, that thing that Dr. Stark inserted into you. Does it hurt? Can I see it? Does it give you more power?”

Laughing at his multitude of questions, you shake your head at him. “No, and yes, and well, I don’t know yet. Can you come with me or do you have to be somewhere right now?”

With a wink and a grin, Miles slings his arm over your shoulders. “I’m all yours, short stuff,” he declares, using his old nickname for you that he knew wound you up. “At least for the next ten hours or so. Then I gotta report in for my new assignment.” Glancing down with another wink, he asks, “Whatcha got in mind?”

You shrug, trying for the same level of nonchalant casualness he is giving off. “Oh, just dinner and some catch-up time. Y’know, small talk.” 

A shiver runs through you, up and down your spine and ending in your lower gut. You’ve never done small talk and he should remember that. Since hugging him and recalling what you once had with him, you feel this need to have intimate contact and he just happens to be available, as bad as that sounds when you spell it out in your head. You hope he won’t mind. The grin he gives you suggests he won’t and you know that you don't intend to tell him anything otherwise. 

Leading him along the corridor to the Records department, you consider why you are feeling this way right now. It’s a certainty that this has been building over the past few weeks, especially with Tony, Dr. Stark (you have to remind yourself to call him that) being as personal as he has been in offering you a place to stay. The vibes were certainly not on your side alone there. And then there is Stephen (Dr. Strange, your strict inner voice chides you, to which you shush it harshly). You’re still not sure where he stands, besides next to Tony, but you definitely feel affection for him as much as you do for his roommate. If it is more than that, you aren’t sure. 

The Records department is quiet, most of the personnel gone for the day. Quickly turning over the logbook to the clerk on duty, you grab Miles’s hand and lead him down various corridors to your quarters. For the most part, you’re avoiding people you know and the routes they take on a normal day. Especially Natasha. Last thing you want right now is her piercing gaze digging down into your motives and making you question them more closely.

You reach your quarters and slap your palm against the security panel, impatient to get inside. Behind you, Miles is chuckling. 

“Don’t break it.”

Looking over your shoulder, you reply by sticking out your tongue at him. The door slides open and you all but drag him inside, urging him to get inside before anyone comes along and sees. Not that you're embarrassed or afraid of what someone might say or think. You just don’t want to be bothered by any interruption to your current course of action. 

The room you’ve been assigned is larger than regular crew quarters, thanks to your upgrade in rank. There’s room for a small table and a couple of chairs as well as a small living area with a short sofa, more of a settee really, facing a wall screen over an inset bookcase stuffed with your collection of fantasy/scifi paperbacks and graphic novels. To your left is your bed and the door to the bath area, with the far wall holding the few cupboards and miniscule prep area for your mini kitchen. You step in far enough to let Miles get inside before turning to slap the manual button to close and lock the door,

Finishing the turn, you intentionally take a step to bring yourself up against Miles, lifting your arms up and laying them along his broad shoulders. Feeling the familiar way his muscles move under your hands, as well as the way his hands go to your waist and pull you close, gives a sense of calmness you haven't felt since before the incident. You may have forgotten the event and what happened afterwards, but this is still in your mind. As is his scent.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, hoping he is on the same page as you. His soft brown eyes are dark with desire, eyelids relaxed along with his mouth. Slightly parted lips let loose a barely heard sigh as he dips his head down and captures your mouth with his. The trill of desire travels to the base of your spine and fans the heat that has erupted deep in your core. Shifting your hips against his, you moan and knead his shoulders, opening your lips to match his ardor and slipping your tongue in to touch his. 

For a moment, you both pause, simply enjoying the feel of each other once again. Your desire doesn't let it last long, however, increasing in heat until you can’t resist any longer. Sliding your tongue farther along his, you deepen the kiss. He responds eagerly, running his hands up and down your back, massaging your muscles with strong fingers. 

The kiss ends and he peppers your lips and cheeks with gentle pecks, traveling down your neck. You writhe against him, urging him on, raising your chest up to allow him access to your breasts. Lost in the moment, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs making circles on your hardened nipples, you feel him stop. He draws away from you, leaving your skin tingling, your groin aching. You lean your head back to look at him.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you murmur, running your hands up and over his thick hair, the twists rough against your palms.

“Are you sure this is okay?” His eyes show worry, gazing at you with desire and uncertainty. A glance down at your chest gives you pause as you realize why he stopped. 

You give him a wry smile and lower your gaze as you touch the arc reactor glowing on your breastbone. As you run your finger along its edge, it hums faintly under your touch. The memory of the sound it had made when it touched Tony’s arc reactor comes back to you, along with a hard ache in your chest that has nothing to do with your physical state. Accepting what has to be is one thing, but that doesn’t erase what you felt between the two of you. 

Nor does it lessen what you are feeling right now, here in Miles’s arms. It’s not as though he was a stranger to you. You squash the thought that you are only cleared for light physical activity and gaze back up at him, desire bright in your eyes. 

“No worries, hun. I’m down if you are.”


	9. Down - Chorus 1 - The Smut Report (explicit content)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Chorus 1  
> Are you... down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Are you down, are you down, are you d-d-down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?
> 
> Are you down, are you down, are you d-d-d-d-down, are you  
> Down, are you down, are you d-d-down, are you?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, down, d-d-d-down?
> 
> This is just a brief, sex-filled interlude. If you're not into that, skip to the next chapter for more plot advancement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Briefing Report: You are starting your new position as Lead Communications Officer onboard the skyship ENTERPRISE, determined to put behind you the developing relations between you and Dr. Tony Stark. Things get extra complicated when your former lover and leader of the Venezuelan rebels, [Miles Morales](https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/01/spider-man-movie-miles-morales-donald-glover), shows up on the skyship now working officially for SHIELD and awaiting his next assignment. (see [Verse 1 - Part 2)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981682/chapters/27102195)
> 
> In case anyone is wondering - yes, Miles is like 24 or so in this fic, not 16 like in the comics.

_Previously: Lost in the moment, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs making circles on your hardened nipples, you feel him stop. He draws away from you, leaving your skin tingling, your groin aching. You lean your head back to look at him._

_“What’s wrong, baby?” you murmur, running your hands up and over his thick hair, the twists rough against your palms._

_“Are you sure this is okay?” His eyes show worry, gazing at you with desire and uncertainty. A glance down at your chest gives you pause as you realize why he stopped._

_…  
You give him a wry smile and lower your gaze as you touch the arc reactor glowing on your breastbone._

_…_  
_“No worries, hun. I’m down if you are.”_  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------

His grin is the only answer he needs to give, hands running up your arms to cup your head as he kisses you gently. The first kiss deepens quickly, leading to more, responding in turn to each expression of passion, hands touching and stroking each other’s body, rediscovering the little joys you had known before. Breaking apart only to tug on his shirt, you pull it up as his hands dive under your waistband. A laugh breaks free from your lips as he squeezes your butt, making it hard to get his shirt up and over his head.

Unable to see, he ducks his head down and reluctantly lets go of your buns, allowing you to pull the shirt down his arms and toss it to the side. In response, his hands dart out and catch hold of your uniform top, pulling at the fastenings until they pop open. You chuckle, glad you had worn your lacy black bra instead of the sports bra you normally throw on. It’s not that you had been planning something like this, but your desire had inspired your choice this morning after your shower hadn’t been enough to dampen the heat that had been growing in your loins. 

The softening of his face, followed by a hungry grin, was in itself a reward for your taste in lingerie, though it only served to stoke your inner furnace more. Ducking his head, he kisses the tops of your breasts, his hands running up your ribs and over the lace to catch your nipples in his fingers again. The groan you give him in return elicits one of his own. Walking backwards, his lips still busy on the rise of your breasts under the lace, he pulls you with him to the bed. 

Spinning you around, Miles pushes you back onto the covers. His fingers trace their way down your body to your thighs as you sink onto the mattress, leaving you shivering with anticipation. He rubs your legs a moment, then reaches for the waistband of your pants. Popping open the fastener there as quickly as he had your top, he parts the top of your pants to bare your stomach and panties.

Then his lips are on your skin just above the line of black lace that covers your mound and all your thoughts fly out of your head with a moan. Running your hands up his arms to rub and pull on his shoulders, you can feel his grin momentarily against your hip before he begins to nibble the soft flesh there as he pulls your pants down to free your legs. You writhe in response, bucking your hips up to bump his jaw, encouraging him to explore. Your hands find their way to his hair again, the twists making bumps against your palms that send shivers up your arms. 

He raises his head to look up at you, resting on his elbows to keep most of his weight from crushing you. 

“You cold, babe?”

“Nah, just so hot for you it makes me shiver.”

His broad smile at the compliment is followed by a chuckle and a shake of his head at your cheesy response. Digging your fingers into his hair, you tug on it, pulling him up to meet your lips as you raise up to kiss him. You brush your hands down and over his shoulders, then dig your fingers into his ribs. When he bursts out laughing, you tickle him more. 

Still laughing, he rolls to his side, then pulls you up to sit on his hips, the heat from his hard cock pulsing against you through his own pants and the cloth of your panties. You splay your fingers out over his chest, enjoying the paler glow of your skin against his darker coloring. Leaning on his chest, you grind your pelvis against his hips, using the length of him to stimulate yourself even more. His groan as he grabs at your hips and pulls you hard against his aroused flesh is music to your ears.

You bite back your own groan, highly aware of the possibility that you might make too much noise, which would start things breaking when the last thing you wanted right now was attention from anyone else besides the man on your bed. And a couple others, the voice in the back of your mind whispers, just loud enough to make you shake your head. Miles see the reaction and pauses in the exploration of your body with his hands and mouth.

“Everything alright, babe?” The concern in his voice doesn’t quite aggravate you like so many other inquiries had in the past few days. His eyes match the sincerity in his voice, making you grin in relief. You deflect him with a kiss before replying.

“Almost. Except it occurred to me that you are wearing entirely too much clothing for the position you’re in.” 

You follow your words with action, sliding down his legs to stand between them. Bending over him, you place your hands to either side of his waist and kiss his belly just above the edge of his pants. His hands had been behind his head in anticipation of you removing his pants but came down quickly to grasp the sides of your head, his fingertips massaging your scalp and neck, asking you silently for more. 

Giving him a few more kisses, spread out over his taut russet skin, you breath softly on the hairs making a trail down into his pants, letting a moan reverberate over his skin. It was his turn to shiver now, his fingers lacing through your hair. You tease him some more, rubbing your hard nipples over his sensitized skin, the lace texture of your bra stimulating him to the point he tries to pull you up to his mouth for a kiss. 

Resisting, you lean back and tug at his waist, unbuttoning his pants until his boxers are exposed, along with a glimpse of the silky smooth skin of his engorged cock. Impulse strikes and you dip your head to kiss him through his boxers. A half-groan, half-yelp bursts from him, his fingers releasing your hair to grip the covers of the bed, his hips bucking under you. 

The movement offers you the perfect opportunity and you take it, grabbing the waistband of both pants and boxers. With a swift tug, you get them to slide down from his hips, along the length of his slim, muscular thighs to end up in a puddle on the floor around his ankles. He steps one foot out of the clothing and uses the other to kick the unwanted items off, sending them sliding over your bare floor. Letting out a soft chuckle, you use his knees to brace yourself as you kneel between his legs and lean forward to give him another kiss, this time on his bare, silky-smooth skin.

His cock jumps and throbs under your ministrations, his fingers curling in your hair and massaging your scalp encourage you to continue. With a throaty laugh of pleasure, you open your mouth and breath softly over his cockhead, then lick up and around the tip as he groans and writhes beneath you. He curls his torso up but you push him back down, kissing and nipping his inner thighs. More groans come from his throat and his hands leave your hair to grip the bedding on either side of his hips. His resistance resonates deep inside you.

You feel yourself responding to his moans of pleasure. The fact that you are kneading his balls and tugging on them to elicit more of the same also increases your heat. You’ve always liked having control in this position and having him respond to you so enthusiastically has you running hot as a race car. Stretching your arms up, you lean your breasts against his inner thighs, allowing your nipples to brush the sides of his ballsack, making him pant and whimper in pleasure. 

Grabbing his hips, you pull yourself up, dragging your nipples along his sensitized skin and grinning up at him, enjoying the noises he is making as he watches your progress. His dark eyes are even darker now, blown with lust and desire. Cat-crawling up his body, you plant your fists next to his neck and lean down to brush your lips against his. The sensation of his nipples and yours meeting sends little shocks of pleasure shooting throughout your body and it’s too much. 

Miles grabs you around your waist, pulling your hips tight against his, his cock sliding easily between your slick-covered thighs, rubbing so many good spots you growl in response. His mouth captures yours, seemingly intent on devouring your tongue as he kisses you deep and hard. Bucking your hips against his, you moan at the multiple sensations of his cock rubbing against your engorged vulva. 

He lifts your hips as you arch up and deftly angles you so the tip of his cockhead finds its way between your labial lips and into your heated core. You sink slowly onto his shaft, moaning and growling in turn as sensation and pleasure explode along the inside of you until his tip hits your top. Panting, you grip his shoulders and break free from his mouth, only to grin down at him in joyful pleasure. 

Returning your grin, he slides his hands up to cup your breasts again, his thumbs rubbing and pressing against your swollen nipples. Pinching one between thumb and forefinger, he pulls it to his mouth and trades his grip for his lips, sucking it in to nip at it with his teeth. Crying out at the new sensation, you rock your hips against his, pressing yourself down against his tip. Engorged as it is, it seems to grow even larger as you pump yourself on it and Miles slips his free arm around your waist, closing the distance between your bodies. 

Sweat-slicked and hot, the both of you slip and slide against each other, his mouth busy on first one and then the other nipple as you grip his shoulders tightly, biting your lip to keep from crying out again. Your last cry had cracked the glass of the mirror over your dresser and serves as a warning as you grind your hips down on his. Half-sitting now, he is using his feet as braced support on the floor to help him thrust up into your heat, his grunts and groans joining yours with every motion. 

You feel your passion rising, urging you onward, encouraging you. In response, you begin rocking your hips between the thrust, making the tip of his cock rub even more against the top of your vagina, creating more heat until you are ready and willing to explode. Your lip sore, you open your mouth and begin panting with each wave surging and pounding through you, faster and faster. A glance down shows you his lust-darkened eyes watching you as he leans back on his fists, his smile as he enjoys your pleasure striking deep into your core, pushing you over the edge. 

Tossing your head back, you lean back, bracing your hands on his knees to thrust even harder against his hips, driving him deep inside to trigger your g-spot as your climax surges and explodes through you. Muscles clamp and the thrusts become rocking motions, then he raises his hips up off the mattress and you are truly riding him as you ride out your orgasm. His cry of pleasure as his cock throbs and pulses inside you is unrestrained and you are glad of the extra soundproofing your room has. 

Such a mundane thought is quickly lost in the aftershocks of your pleasure and you rock against him as he lowers himself back to the bed, sinking down with groans of enjoyment as you find yourself with another moment building inside you. Bringing yourself forward, you brace your arms on his chest and roll your hips on his, encouraged by his still firm length inside you. 

You close your eyes and moan softly, leaning down to kiss his lips, slowly moving your tongue in and out of his mouth in time with the rhythm of your hips. He moans and massages your hips with his fingertips, helping you move against him. It only takes a few minutes until your pleasure mounts enough to bring you to climax once again. Holding yourself in an arch as you quiver and rock over him, you finally open your eyes and catch him watching you again. 

A blush rushes over your cheeks, heating them as you duck your head and kiss him sweetly. His chuckle brings you upright to look at him.

“What’s so funny?” you murmur, running your fingers around his nipples. His swift in-drawn breath lets you know how much he enjoys it before he answers.

“You getting embarrassed by me watching you,” his smile as he tells you makes you blush again. You turn your face away but he traces your jaw with a finger, bringing your gaze back to his. “It’s beautiful.”

His soft, familiar compliment warms you inside even as you are wondering if this had been the best idea. Chalking it up to stress-relief and the fact you had prior relations with him, which might not be the best excuse but definitely made it easier, you giggle and give him your usual response.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy that the best.” You stick out your tongue as he slides his arms around you, hugging you and kissing your shoulder. Hugging him back, you burrow your nose into the crook of his neck, returning the kiss and continuing on to his neck. The arc reactor bumps against his collarbone, giving you a bit of a startle.

He jumps under you, then laughs. You lean back and look at him, watching him for any signs that he is uncomfortable with this new part of you. He swings you around and lays you on the bed covers, pulling away from your still slick skin to leave a rush of cooler air behind as he rises up and walks into the bathroom. Adjusting your position, you watch him gather a couple of your towels and a damp washcloth before returning to the bed. 

Smiling at you the whole time, he wipes first you and then himself down with the washcloth, then dries you off with one towel and uses the other to pat the blanket dry where you both had left your marks from your climaxes. Once this was done and the dirty towel and washcloth tossed in the hamper by the bathroom door, Miles lays down next to you, resting his head on your stomach as he looks up into your eyes.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” he grins as he says it, taking any sting out of his words, “can we talk? I really need to ask you some questions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering - yes, Miles is like 24 or so in this dimension, not 16 like in the comics


	10. Down - Verse 3 - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 3  
>  **You know we could put them all to shame**  
>  Now isn't the time to play it safe  
> Isn't this the reason why you came?  
> So, baby, don't you let it go to waste
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Briefing Report: You are starting your new position as Lead Communications Officer onboard the skyship ENTERPRISE, determined to put behind you the developing relations between you and Dr. Tony Stark. Things get extra complicated when your former lover and leader of the Venezuelan rebels, [Miles Morales](https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/01/spider-man-movie-miles-morales-donald-glover), shows up on the skyship now working officially for SHIELD and awaiting his next assignment. (see [Verse 1 - Part 2)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981682/chapters/27102195)
> 
> In case anyone is wondering - yes, Miles is like 24 or so in this fic, not 16 like in the comics.

Previously [read The Smut Report for details]:  
_[Coming down from your orgasms, you lay back and allow Miles to clean-up himself and you. When he is done, he] lays down next to you, resting his head on your stomach as he looks up into your eyes._

_“Now that that’s out of the way,” he grins as he says it, trying to take any sting out of his words, “can we talk? I really need to ask you some questions.”_

*****************************************************

  
Sleep is creeping up on you after your release, making you want to just snuggle into your blankets and nap until time to find something for supper. At his words, the warm fuzzies leftover from your orgasms dissipate, leaving your skin overly sensitive and prickly. Frowning, you sit up and let out a low “Huff!”

Miles looks a bit wide-eyed at you, still waiting for an answer. He rolls to his side, his legs dangling over the side of the bed and you wait a moment as he pushes himself up to a matching sitting position. When he is sitting cross-legged on the bed next to you, you snap your fingers. 

The sound falls flat, no echo coming from the walls or even sounding like it had gone anywhere. You give him a sideways grin and bring your knees up to rest your elbows on, raising your eyebrows in a questioning way.

Once he realizes you have soundproofed the room, he grins and leans over, hands on your temples, to place a kiss on your forehead. The smile you give him isn’t so friendly, the thought having surfaced in your mind by now that he had wanted to talk to you since he first saw you in the hallway. Still, it was nice that he had given you what you wanted before addressing his own interest. 

He sees your smile, a warning that he has seen before, and holds up his hands, palms facing you. “Just hear me out, [Y/N]. I wasn’t sure if you were even on-board this ship, but when I saw you, I knew I had to talk to you. I just want to apologize for this,” he motions at your chest, his eyebrows pulled down as he gives you a sorrowful gaze, “for everything you’ve had to go through since Caracas. You see, what I need to ask you is,” he grimaces at the taste of his words, ”why did you try to save those hostages when that bomb went off?”

***************************************

Natasha is in her room, going through the motion of cleaning one of her handguns, bored but antsy and not sure why. Her phone buzzes and she picks it up, only to see the message, sent by the watcher assigned to monitor [Y/N].

“[Y/N]’s room has gone silent. As you requested, you’ve received this alert on priority. You have two minutes.” 

Cursing in three languages, Natasha stashes the gun and grabs some of her other gear, heading out the door at a run. She figures she might be able to make it to your room in just over a minute, leaving another two, maybe two and a half, until security personnel reaches your room as well. That is when things would get complicated. 

Rushing through the hallways to your room, other personnel hurry to get out of Natasha’s way. Her reputation was such that no one wanted to risk her ire, something she has fostered since first joining SHIELD and is happy to see is intact here on the skyship. She slides around the corner into the hall where your room is located and immediately notices the dead air quality of the sound. Without even trying she isn’t making any noise on her approach. She wonders if you can hear her as she knocks on your door, her left hand behind her back, resting on her stun baton. 

**************************************************  
You sit there on your bed for a long moment, mouth open, brows furrowed, staring at Miles while you processed what he'd said. He starts to say something and you shush him, your finger on his lips. When you are sure that what he'd said was what you'd heard, you remove your finger and glare at him.

“What do you mean? Are you saying that I wasn’t supposed to be there when that bomb went off?” Bracing your fists on your hips, you glare even harder. “Miles Morales, you have exactly two minutes to explain yourself. Make it concise and profound, or I swear by all that's holy,” you shake your head in warning, “I'll give you to Natasha without qualms or questions.”

Miles blanches at the mention of Natasha, knowing well her reputation, especially when someone messed with one of her teammates. “N-N-Natasha? Um,” he scoots back, leaning away from you as he gathers his scattered thoughts. “She’s coming here? Why is she coming here? I just need to explain…”

Your grin is a bit feral as you sit back on your heels. “She’s my CO and she’ll be here ‘cause I’ve silenced the monitors for my room, which triggers the alarm, and that alerts the watcher, who reports to,” you wave your hand vaguely, “whoever they report to, most likely Captain Hill or Director Fury.” You smirk, your lips twisting in wry amusement at the thought of Fury being bothered by mundane things like status reports on agents. You’d only mentioned their names to poke at Miles and maybe make him squirm a little more. 

“Okay, okay,” he mutters a couple of times, holding his hands out in supplication, “it’s just hard to keep my thoughts coherent with you sitting there stark naked. Can you cover up or something?” Eyebrows lifting in the usual puppy-dog manner, he pleads with you even while he is allowing his gaze to roam over your body. 

That isn’t what makes you blush, though. It was the phrase ‘stark-naked’. You pull up the covers to hide your breasts, then motion at him, urging him to continue. “Hurry up! She’ll be here any second now!”

“Oh that helps,” he says, grinning at you, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. Your balled up fist makes him lean back again, shutting his mouth until you motion again for him to talk.

“Those hostages? The scientists that were in the building? They’re all loyal to HYDRA, not SHIELD. They were using the SHIELD facilities and network to run their experiments so we wouldn’t catch them. When I found out, I had to help take them out. I couldn’t let them get away.” He turns away, the pain and anger on his face telling how he felt about what he had done. 

You knew how he felt about HYDRA. Knew that it was that group that had helped create the experimental creatures that had run wild through London and killed his parents while they were there for a symposium. Back when the Tesseract had been under their control, they had done so many bad things. But still…

“Why didn’t you bring it up to Director Fury? I’m sure he would have…”

“He didn’t believe me!” Miles wipes his eyes and pounds his thigh in anger. “I approached him while we were in the field down there in Caracas. He told me he’d look into it, but then he started shipping those - those - monsters! - out of the country! They were destroying all the evidence!” Tossing his hands up, he grimaces in pain at the thought and looks you in the eye. “I’m sorry, [Y/N], I’m glad you survived, but your life would have been a small price to pay…”

The shock of his words hit you and you know it’s true. You had sacrificed yourself protecting those people but now, you find yourself regretting your actions. You hadn’t known. How could you have? The recriminations strike a blow directly to your psyche, leaving you befuddled. Thoughts of those scientists that you’d known there in Venezuela begin rising up on a tide of guilt and a sob escapes your throat. 

Miles pulls you close, wrapping you tightly in his arms. He murmurs something into your shoulder that you don’t quite catch. Turning to look at him, you ask him to repeat it. 

The words he says are lost as the door is blown inward, a concussive blast blowing through your room, knocking stuff over. Glass shatters as your cracked dresser mirror can’t take it any longer and falls off, hitting the floor. 

You turn, Miles’s arms still around your waist, to see Iron Man, in his dome-headed riot gear armor, flying through the door, Natasha hard on his heels. 

*****************************************  
Tony received the notice that the watcher sent to Agent Romanov through the monitoring system he’d set up inside the skyship’s communication network. It didn’t bother him to spy on his colleagues. Everyone spied on everyone else in this business. The trick was to not get caught, which he was certain he never would. Especially because his company was the main supplier for the SHIELD hardware and he’d never come across any software he couldn’t crack. 

Which was why he’d gone into the medical profession. The real challenges he faced there made him feel appreciated. What he did for SHIELD and the Avengers, he did instead of golfing or sailing. At least, until Caracas. After that, where you had almost lost your life protecting a group of scientists that were probably working for more than one side of the battlefield, things became more intense, more real. 

Now it was obvious that the loyalty that he’d sworn you possessed, had put his reputation, his very heart, and his best friend’s, on the line for, might have been a projection of his own desires and not the reality of the situation. ‘Why else would [Y/N] have silenced her room monitors?’ he asks himself as he flies through the hallways, dressed in his riot armor, dreading what he would find when he reaches your room.

The sight of Agent Romanov standing at [Y/N]’s door, one hand raised from knocking and the other behind her back, resting on a stun baton, ratchets his feelings up even tighter than they already were. Anger, sure, but caused by a volatile mix of other, deeper, emotions that he isn't ready to examine just yet. Suffice to say, he doesn't pause to talk to Romanov, preferring action to words at this moment.

Blasting the door, punching it into the room beyond, is gratifying in a way that he'd been needing, looking for in the last three days. Turning to confront you, the unexpected sight of you sitting on your bed with another man shocks him to the point that he stops, landing heavily on the floor of the room. It takes another couple of seconds of staring at you to realize you’re both completely naked. 

A soft growl vibrates his earphones and he realizes he is subvocalizing his feelings. He clears his throat, points at you with his right hand, his left unnoticed in a fist, and takes a step forward to emphasize his words. “Agent [Y/L/N], you are in violation of the SHIELD monitoring policy that you agreed to when you signed on as an agent. This is a level 4 violation and you will be reprimanded. I’m taking you in!”

*******************************************

Breaking free of Miles’s embrace, you tuck and roll off the bed, landing on your feet in a defensive posture, your head held high in defiance. Behind you Miles make noise like he is trying to say something, but your attention is fully on the armored figure in front of you. Even Natasha’s motions fade to background buzz as you stare each other down. 

“If you think you can take me in without allowing me my right of defense, then bring it, Iron Man!” You practically sneer his name, all the hype and rumors about the arrogance and disdain this man has shown agents in the past skewing your reaction. That and getting your door busted down right after finding out upsetting information. You roll your right shoulder and toss your hair back out of your eyes, filling your lungs through your nostrils as noisily as possible, prepared to show this Avenger you didn’t appreciate his interference. 

“Whoa! Hold on everyone! Stand down!” Natasha’s commanding voice breaks into your silent preparation, a surprising advocate for a moment of reason. “[Y/N], Iron Man, there’s no need for violence. Now that we know everyone is alright,” she glances over as Miles eases up off the bead, holding a pillow over his privates, then gives you the once-over, “I suggest the two of you make yourselves presentable for when Director Fury gets here. That way,” her eyes sear a line of accusation over at Iron Man, to your surprise, “no one is getting distracted by anything and we can focus on the facts.”

Waving at both Miles and Iron Man, she orders them through their respective doorways, Iron Man out into the hall to stand guard and Miles into the bathroom to get dressed. Once you both are alone in the main room, she hands you the pile of clothes from the floor, a grin tugging at her lips. 

“Did you get what you were after?” she asks you as you pull your pants up around your hips. 

You manage to avoid her eyes for a few seconds by looking down to fasten them, but after that, you have no choice but to look her in the eye. When you do, she is smirking, knowing you are avoiding answering. When you finally give her a huge, satisfied grin, she pats you on the shoulder. 

“Tell me, [Y/N], was it worth it?”

You aren't sure now, except you have more information about what happened before you woke up in a hospital in the States. And more questions. Bending over, you grab your uniform top from the floor where you’d dropped it and pull it on, taking the time to mull over which one to ask first. The one that pops up before all the others is the one that seems most out of place.

“Why is Director Fury coming down here? What does a privacy violation have to do with anything he's involved in?”

Natasha pauses, tilts her head to look at you, making you feel like a strange bug found under a rock. She steps close to you, so close you can feel her body heat. Her eyes continue to bore into yours, peering into your soul.

“You really don't know, do you?” she whispers.

Shaking you head ever so slightly, you keep your lips sealed, not wanting to give away how much you don't.

Giving you a sorrowful smile, Natasha reaches up and cups your cheek. 

“Oh, darling, shit is about to get real.”


	11. Down - Verse 3 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 3  
> You know we could put them all to shame  
>  **Now isn't the time to play it safe**  
>  Isn't this the reason why you came?  
> So, baby, don't you let it go to waste
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Briefing Report: You’ve been at your new position as Lead Communications Officer onboard the skyship ENTERPRISE for a little while now, determined to put behind you the developing relations between you and Dr. Tony Stark. Things get extra complicated when your former lover and leader of the Venezuelan rebels, Miles Morales, shows up on the skyship now working officially for SHIELD and awaiting his next assignment. (see Verse 1 - Part 2)

“What in the HELL were you thinking?” Nick Fury’s one good eye rakes across the three of you as he yells, slapping his palms against the desktop in his office - Miles to your right and Iron Man, now out of his bulky riot gear and lounging against the wall to your left in his regular, sleek armor. You and Miles both flinch visibly, while Iron Man crosses his arms and manages somehow to look bored. Nat, sitting to Fury’s right, scowls at the armored hero, then shoots a reassuring smile your way. 

Having been warned somewhat by Nat’s comment, you remain silent, waiting to see where Fury is headed with his tirade. Miles isn’t so lucky, though you think he should know better by now. He makes the mistake of trying to respond to what was clearly, to you, nothing but a rhetorical question.

“I’m sorry sir, it was my fault [Y/N] used her abilities that way. I -”

“You what...” Fury turns his focus to the young man, his words not a question. “You thought you might get away with a few minutes before anyone noticed? Or did you think she was exempt from monitoring due to her recent appearance on TV? Maybe,” he pauses and looks through the files on his desk, almost like he isn’t sure who it was sitting in front of him, before leaning on the desk with both hands, chin thrust forward as though daring Miles to hit him, “maybe you and her were planning an attack from within the skyship and we just caught you in the act.”

The accusation hangs there in the air of Fury’s office, the room feeling noticeably colder. Behind you to your left, Iron Man is on his feet, hands clenched so tight you can hear the strain of the metal plating grinding against itself. Odd though this is, it’s quickly lost in Miles’s reaction. Jumping to his feet, Miles steps forward and plants his own hands on Fury’s desk, shoving his face toward the Director.

“No way! That is absolutely not true! [Y/N] is one hundred percent loyal to SHIELD! She would never do anything against the company, or against you!” His hands raise into fists as he grimaces against the strong emotions showing out on his face. “I don’t know how you can even think that, but you seriously need to take that back! Take it back!”

Miles raises his right fist, cocking it back as if to strike a blow. Before you can finish jumping to your feet, Nat is over the desk and grabbing his wrist, bending it back and forcing him to his knees. His cry of pain echoes around the room, making you flinch back out of reflex. To your surprise, you feel a metal-covered hand at your back, holding you steady so you can remain on your feet. 

“Enough!” Fury’s command is barked out just as Nat is bending Miles backward, unable to resist her force on his wrist. Again you flinch at the volume, wondering when you had become so sensitive. Behind you, Iron Man moves closer, his hands now on your shoulders drawing you back against his chestplate. Reflexively, you let out one of your soft *huff* noises, quelling all the sound in the room. 

It’s like watching a movie with the sound turned off. Nat turning to Fury and asking a question. Miles surging to his feet, yelling at both of them. The only sounds you can hear are the heartbeats of everyone in the room. And the sounds of the arc reactors in your’s and Iron Man’s chests. They are singing, it sounds like, singing a song suggestive of power. It’s enticing, drawing you in.

A small blossom of pain on your right shoulder causes you to lose the moment. You release the dampener, allowing the noise to return. The sounds come crashing back in. It staggers you and you stumble, then find yourself being helped to a seat. Everything’s jumbled now, blurring and rumbling around until you stick your fingers in your ears. The silence is a relief. 

You close your eyes, bringing semi-darkness to help ease the throbbing in your head. Not since you first discovered that you could manipulate sound waves, with all the trial and errors while you figured things out, have you lost control like this. A tear squeezes out from your tightly shut eyelids, one down each cheek. You can feel yourself shaking now that you have your ears blocked.

“Hey, hey, [Y/N], it’s okay. Sshhh.” Nat’s voice is more like hollow noise and vibration through her fingers as they wipe away the tears than sound reaching your ears. It comforts you, especially when she wraps her arms around your shoulders and pulls you in, hugging you against her as she hums. A weight you hadn’t noticed until now lifts from your back, leaving you feeling oddly bereft.

“She should be fine now.” Iron Man’s mechanized voice comes vibrating through your fingers, sounding cool and removed. “Looks like all the shouting caused an overload to her senses and induced a panic attack. Maybe you should not be so loud around her, k?”

You raise your head at this, wondering at the familiarity of the speech pattern. The temerity of the last statement brings to mind a certain doctor, but Fury’s response pushes any other thoughts or budding suspicions away from the front of your mind. 

“You’re right. [Y/N],” he turns and sees you looking at him, “I am sorry about that. I should have been more considerate of your recent recovery. Nat, please help [Y/N] down to the infirmary to have her checked out for stress. Report back to me in an hour.”

As she helps you from the room, your legs shaky but stable, you stop next to Iron Man, who had gone back to lounging against the wall near the door. It takes you a minute, but you gather your energy and raise a hand to lay it on his gauntlet and look up at his faceplate. You appreciate his help, knowing that if he hadn’t been there at your back, it might have gotten worse. A thank you is in order, but with all that has happened, the words refuse to form. It takes a few seconds of licking your lips and fighting the constriction in your throat before you manage to croak out one word.

“Thanks.”

His response is what his reputation has always suggested. Waving his hand, yours sliding from his arm with the motion, he twists his head to the side and laughs. “No worries, kid. Just didn’t want you freaking out and yelling. Last time you did that, blew out all my speakers. These things aren’t cheap, Kmart knockoffs, y’know.”

“C’mon, [Y/N].” Nat chuckles as she tugs your arm to get you moving again. Your gaze lingers on Iron Man as he watches the both of you leave, then turns back and shuts the door behind you. Bemused, you turn and meekly walk with Nat to go get prodded and poked by Dr. Banner.  
===================================

Tony comes in for a landing on the roof of his townhome, located on 5th Avenue in the heart of New York City, his suit in reflective camouflage mode so no one can track where he lands. Once he steps into his rooftop ‘garage’ and out of the suit, he can’t help but dance all the way down the stairs, too wound up to wait for the elevator. He reaches the door into the apartment and taps in the security code, humming a bit before bursting out into the lyrics of AC/DC’s Back in Black:

‘Cause I'm back on the track  
And I'm beatin' the flack  
Nobody's gonna get me on another rap  
So look at me now  
I'm just makin' my play  
Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way

'Cause I'm ba-a-a-a-ack  
Yes, I'm ba-a-a-a-ack  
Well, I'm ba-a-a-a-ack  
Yes, I'm ba-a-a-ack…”

He stops in the middle of the chorus, noticing Stephen watching him from the couch over in the living area. The TV was on, its giant screen showing a movie that Tony didn’t recognize right away, not helped by the fact that the volume has been turned down to just a murmur that blends the voices into a susurration in the background. Even in the dimmed lights, Tony could see that his roommate, his best friend, is worried about something. From the way Stephen is frowning at him, arms crossed, fingers tucked in tight, he is pretty sure it has to do with him as Iron Man. 

Walking over to face Stephen, Tony raises his hands and opens his mouth, but instead of speaking, mostly because he could see Stephen beginning to speak, one finger lifting in an upward motion, Tony kneels in front of his friend and bows his head, but just enough so he could look up through his eyelashes and pout, playing the fool with his apology.

“I’m sorry I was late getting home. I’ll be sure to call next time. Or text ‘cuz I can do that without using my phone or my fingers. Yes I know,” He lifts his head a little, smirking, “I invented that. Forgive me?” He looks up, giving Stephen the look he always uses when he wants someone to feel sorry for him. His hangdog, big-eyed, sorrowful gaze meets Stephen’s glare as he lowers the finger and goes back to crossing his arms, fingers tucked in again.

“We need to talk, Tony.” Stephen’s tone is hard, angry almost, making Tony wonder what he’d done for real. Before he could ask, Stephen leans forward and picks up a large manila envelope from the coffee table and holds it out to him. “This came for you today by bonded carrier. I assume it’s from your friend at SHIELD, because it’s not even been announced officially in the U.N. yet that this is being put forward.” 

Tony takes the bulky package from Stephen, absently noting that it was almost a full ream of paper stuffed in the envelope. The top is opened. He gives Stephen a small grin, trying to lighten the mood a little. “What? Going through my mail now, dear?”

“Knock it off, Anthony. This is serious.” 

That’s when Tony stopped joking around. Stephen hadn’t called him by his full first name in years. Frowning as he pulls out the top couple of sheets from the package, Tony glances over the words, taking them in and processing them quickly. “Oh fuck!”

His exclamation is met with a nod from Stephen. “Exactly. Read the whole thing and then we can discuss what to do about it. This could seriously threaten everything you and SHIELD do against HYDRA and other terrorist organizations.”

Shaking his head, Tony sets the envelope back on the coffee table with the few loose papers on top, his shoulders slumped with dejection. He heaves a sigh and wipes his face with one hand, ending with it propping his chin up as he sank into thought.

“Hey, I’m sorry to drop such garbage on you, Tony.” Stephen’s voice is softer now, prompting Tony to look up. Seeing one hand reaching out to him, Tony shuffles forward on his knees until he is next to the couch and Stephen’s hand is on his shoulder. “You looked like you were in such a great mood, too.”

“I was. I got to see [Y/N] buck-naked and yelling in my face, well in the face of my riot armor, then Fury called us to his office and started yelling, which made Miles yell back and [Y/N] freaked out and nearly passed out. So yeah, it was,” Tony takes a deep breath, lets it out noisily and smiles up at Stephen, “fun.” 

“Wow, I am at a complete loss for words,” Stephen stares and shakes his head, a bemused half-smile lightening up his grim demeanor as he watches Tony rattle off that sentence. He chuckles a couple of times. “Buck-naked, huh? Why was she…?”

“Apparently, according to Natasha, [Y/N] and her ex were doing the nasty before things got...dicey.” Tony manages to make it most of the way through that sentence before his voice breaks down to a mutter. Jealous bites at his heart, telling him he should have been the one in your room. It baffles him why you had gone and found your ex rather than respond to any of the flirtations he’d taken up with you over the past couple of months. He avoids Stephen’s eyes, not wanting his acute intelligence working things out, if he hasn’t already. 

The thought that he should pull your medical records since Natasha had taken you to the infirmary occurs to Tony and try as he might, he can’t see why he shouldn't. After all, he is still listed as one of your attending physicians, and you had just gone through a very stressful situation. Not to mention having sex so soon after being released for light duty, which he is sure isn’t included. Still, you hadn’t seemed too distraught until Fury and Morales had started yelling. At least you hadn’t yelled back, though the sound dampening trick was new. He doesn’t remember that ability being listed in your file. 

The fire that had been in your eyes, though, has seriously struck a nerve deep inside him, and he is certain he has never wanted to pound someone so much as when he’d been in the office watching you panic. His hand on your back had been all he dared to offer, considering it was risky enough speaking around you, even with the voice filter of the suit at full force. 

“Tony, I think you might want to consider removing yourself as [Y/N]’s attending physician. Taking into consideration that you have conflicting feelings about her being with someone else, I think it’s safe to say your objectivity is compromised.” Stephen chuckles as he makes this comment, drawing Tony out of his thoughts to gape at his friend.

When he doesn’t say anything in response, Stephen blushes and ducks his head. “Sorry, but I could plainly see what you were thinking, and I don’t think you need to be in a position that might cause you to do something you’d regret, professionally anyway.” 

He lifts his head to find Tony has shifted closer to him, his eyes sparking like they do when he calculates and plots something. After a moment of silence, Stephen tries to extricate himself but finds his arm caught under Tony’s hand on his own knee. Tony is staring at him hard enough, he feels, to crack open his psyche and absorb his thoughts directly. Steeling himself, Stephen forces himself to relax and smile at his best friend, trusting an outpouring of friendship to hide anything he isn’t ready to show just yet. 

Tony cocks his head to the side, noticing the shift in Stephen’s demeanor as he watches. Most people would squirm under such scrutiny, uncomfortable with being stared at so closely. Instead, Stephen uses a different tactic, fortifying his own will and responding in kind. This only serves to reinforce what Tony had heard in his friend’s voice earlier. He’d wanted to see if Stephen was willing to show more, but is relieved that it only comes to this. 

Rising to his feet, Tony leans over and wraps his arms around Stephen’s shoulders, hugging him, but loosely. “Thank you. I can always trust you to keep a clear head when it comes to things like this.” He steps back as Stephen looks up, then holds out his hand. Stephen takes it and stands and Tony gives him another light hug. “I’ll take care of the doctor thing tomorrow.”

“And,” Tony steps back, waves at the package on the coffee table and heads for the kitchen to hunt down a snack to take to his workshop, “I’ll read through that in a bit and let you know what I think we’ll need to do. If they aren’t careful in the way they present this to the public,” his voice echoes slightly throughout the high-ceilinged living area, coming as it does from the kitchen now, “they’re likely to start a civil war in the Enhanced community.”


	12. Down - Verse 3 - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpMfP6qUSBo) \- Verse 3  
>  You know we could put them all to shame  
> Now isn't the time to play it safe  
>  **Isn't this the reason why you came?**  
>  So, baby, don't you let it go to waste
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
> MCU Timeline: Somewhere between The Avengers and Age of Ultron; non-compliant with canon  
> Dimension #6969

Previously in Down - Verse 3 - Part 1: _Everything is working out just fine._  
_Except it’s really not. You can’t seem to sleep, always waking from unremembered nightmares. An ache in your chest that doesn’t seem to be physical has become a serious distraction that leads to daydreams of brown eyes laughing, shadowed by blue eyes hiding a grin. By the fourth day, you are beginning to consider telling your psych counselor about the lack of sleep._  
_Then you run into your ex-lover, Miles Morales, and everything goes out the window from there._  
======================================  
Tony is in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, and thinking of you. Mostly of you standing there, naked and furious, fists clenched, eyes blazing with indignation. He admits that he had provoked you on purpose, but the sight of you on your bed with that punk had hit him a lot harder than he'd thought possible. Even now it feels like a punch in the gut, just thinking about it. Hearing Fury voice that accusation had almost been more than he could take, but then you’d reacted badly to the loudness of everyone yelling and that had become priority over anything else. 

“Don’t break the cup, Tony. It’ll cut your hand and then where would you be?” Stephen’s voice abruptly breaks into his thoughts. 

Tony jumps and would have dropped the cup in question if his fingers hadn’t been looped through the handle. He makes a face at Stephen, who is leaning on the wall at the entrance to the kitchen, arms folded, fingers still tucked in tight. At least he is smiling, a little bit anyway, Tony thinks. 

“Why so worried, Stephen? Afraid you’d have to take my surgeries? You could probably do them better than me.” Tony says it jokingly, but he knows it’s true. Stephen’s talent boosted his skill beyond what Tony could do, to the point there wasn’t anyone better in the world. 

“Probably? Without a doubt, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” Stephen’s voice is soft, thick with emotion. He drops his gaze down but remains where he is. 

“Then what? The restrictions that the U.N are considering? I mean, yeah that is something to worry about but I don’t think…” Tony stops and turns his head to study his friend, one eye closed and the other peering at Stephen as though through a microscope. “It’s [Y/N], isn’t it?”

Stephen visibly swallows and nods, then looks up to meet Tony’s gaze. “Yes. I’m concerned that you’re overreacting when she is involved in anything and that it’ll cause problems in the field. You can’t tell her that you are Iron Man, as much as you may want to. If she knows, it increases the dangers for both of you. As it is you seem to have a hard time not doing stupid things around her. Like jumping to her defense when someone attacks her.”

Narrowing his eyes, Tony fully turns to face Stephen. “How do you know…?”

“I’ve been monitoring you when you’re in the Iron Man suit. Have been for some time now.” Stephen’s chin comes up, blue eyes hard as ice, daring Tony to react to this announcement. 

The mug handle snaps as the coffee machine beeps, letting them know it was done brewing. Tony sets the mug on the counter without looking at it, or at the coffee machine. He walks up to Stephen, his mien serious. “First off, how you managed to get past my security protocols is something I will grill you on later. For now, just answer me this.” Tony’s voice is low and laden with indignation. “Why? Why would you do this, Stephen? Don’t you trust me?”

“Because you’re reckless! Yes, I trust you implicitly, but you don’t take care of yourself! You never have!” His volume rising with each pronouncement, Stephen ends up throwing his hands in the air, frustration and pain evident in his voice and eyes. He paces out of the kitchen, then back into it to face Tony, his hands akimbo. “Ever since you started traveling with Doctors Without Borders, then the explosion, then Iron Man, and now [Y/N]. It’s getting worse, Tony. You can’t save everyone!” 

“No, Stephen.” Tony's voice is soft, his expression thoughtful. “But as I’ve always said, even one makes a difference.” Tony reaches out, laying a hand on his friend’s upper arm. “I know I haven’t been as careful lately as I should be. I’m sorry. I will try to do better.”

Tony gazes up into his best friend’s anguished expression, the indignation he’d felt at Stephen’s admission now dissipated. He understands Stephen’s concern, and on the heels of his previous outburst, the anger he’d shown at the receipt of the petition for the UN Accords, all these emotions were traceable as coming from one source. That source, though it drives these reactions, Stephen hasn’t yet admitted it to himself. Tony can see that as clearly as he can see what it is. His heart swells at this unexpected depth of response from his normally cool and collected roommate. 

A thought occurs to Tony, one with serious implications. With [Y/N] now firmly in the picture, Tony wonders if Stephen is feeling pushed aside. He doesn’t want that, any more than he wants [Y/N] to choose someone else again. It might be greedy of him for wanting both of them, but he didn’t care. 

“Stephen, I want you to understand something. With [Y/N], you know this is how I’ve felt about her since I first saw her. I don’t have an explanation for it. I wish I did. But for what it’s worth, I would never knowingly do anything to hurt you.” Heaving a sigh, he gives Stephen’s arm a light squeeze, wanting him to look and see what Tony is feeling. “I need you here. You are more than just a friend to me. Please, just answer me this. Are you jealous?”

Mouth gaping as he raises his head to look Tony in the eyes, Stephen looks like a man in shock. When he sees the naked emotion in Tony’s gaze, he shakes his head, though Tony isn’t sure if it’s denial or what. Turning away, Stephen pulls from Tony’s grasp, bracing himself on the wall leading to the dining area. Head down, breathing heavy and shaking, he murmurs to himself words that Tony can’t make out.

Closing the distance between them, Tony lays his hand on Stephen’s back, wanting to do more but unsure how it would be received. Beneath his palm, he feels his friend, his best friend, shiver. The murmuring stops on a quick intake of breath, as does the panting. Long moments tick by in silence, the only sound is the faint susurration of their breathing. Just as Tony is thinking he might need to take another step forward, Stephen takes another deep breath and straightens up. His hand moves from the wall to dive into his pants pocket. 

“You’re such a dumbass.” The statement is soft enough Tony wouldn’t have heard it if there hadn’t been such profound stillness throughout the apartment.

Stephen moves away, walking over to the credenza situated behind the two chairs that faced the couch. There on top is a Jenga game, always in progress, neither of them willing to concede to the other in the simple contest of skill. Reaching out, he plucks a piece from the middle, seemingly at random, and sets it on the top. The tower never wiggles or shifts. Bowing his head, Stephen stands there for half a minute, then walks past the couch and into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. 

Tony watches Stephen disappear down the hall. After a moment with no sign of him, he licks his lips, nods his head a couple of times and returns to the kitchen, grabs snacks and coffee and goes to his workshop, no longer singing. Instead, he spends the night reading everything he can find on international law and perusing the thick stack of papers from the package delivered by Fury’s courier.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Oh, darling, shit is about to get real.”

That’s what Nat had said two weeks ago while you and her were waiting for Fury to show up and chew you out for violating one of the prime mandates of SHIELD protocol. You knew you were in trouble then and you are still in trouble now. Relieved of your position as Lead Communications Officer until you’ve been cleared by Security, you are relegated to working as Dr. Banner’s lab assistant. 

Somehow, it’s not as bad as everyone made it out to be. You have the sneaking suspicion that Fury had you assigned there so Dr. Banner could keep an eye on you, making sure you stayed out of everyone’s sight while still getting the rest and care you didn’t know you needed. Bruce had chastised you for not sleeping, given you your own office, complete with comfy chair, and then instructed you to call him by his first name. Since then, you've had exactly two errands to run and more than enough time to catch up on your Netflix queue and sleep. 

You were still wondering what Nat has been referring when orders come through for you to resume seeing your therapist on a daily basis, starting first thing the following Monday. That day comes and you are barely settled in your chair, looking at your calendar for the time of your first appointment, when Bruce comes in, flipping through digital files and pulling up holographic charts that you recognize as your own. 

“Hey, [Y/N],” he glances at you only briefly before returning to the floating screen in front of him, “I need to run tests on you, see how you are healing and adapting to your new ribcage before I send you to your next checkup with Dr. Stark.”

Your quick gasp of indrawn breath catches his attention, but only because he is focusing on your ribcage and breathing pattern, as it turns out. 

“Are you having trouble breathing? Shortness of breath, light-headed or dizzy?” He’s in front of you, pushing you back into your chair just as you had risen up to follow him to the test center. Your protests are overridden as Bruce insists on listening to you breath right then and there, holding his stethoscope up under your shirt and having you take deep breaths until you really are dizzy. 

“Stop it, Bruce. _Stop!_ ” The last one comes out as more of a growl than actual words, evoking a low rumble in the objects and walls. Metal vibrates and glass rattles, causing you to look around and hunch your shoulders before meeting his gaze, a guilty frown on your face. It’s met by his scowl as he folds his arms and glares at you. For half a breath you could swear you see a glint of green gloss over his eyes before he speaks.

“There it is! There’s that spirit. I was starting to wonder if it had gone missing along with your memory. Although, from the reports, that’s what got you sent down here, right.” He smiles, though it is hard and doesn’t take the edge off his words. 

“What the…? Were you just trying to get a rise out of me then?” You glare back, irritated now that he’d been poking and prodding you over nothing. “I’m fine, Bruce.” You hold up both hands in a show of surrender. “I really am.”

“Exactly.” He holds up the tablet he’d been using to pull up your vitals, giving you a look at the many different charts he has open, all with your name at the top. Not that you understand everything you’re looking at, as most of them are in some kind of medical shorthand, showing lots of abbreviations made of letters and numbers. “You are fine. You’re better than fine. You’ve never been this -”

“What’s your point?” The question comes out harsh, showing your irritation that just keeps rising as he goads you. 

“There’s no medical reason why you should still be suffering from memory loss, [Y/N]. None.”

“You mean…” you stop, unable to articulate exactly what it was that he was saying, though you could feel it in your bones. 

He’s nodding now, lips pressed together. “Yes, exactly, exactly. Those memories are hiding for another reason, but here’s the thing,” His eyes dart around the room a moment, then he leans closer, “that reason is why you haven’t remembered yet. Ask yourself, who will be affected when they come to light?” He taps his temple, eyes wide with concern. “This isn't just about you. Why would Fury bring you into the spotlight of the media? Do you think it was just because of the work that had gone into saving you? Or was it because you are worth saving?”

Your heart sinks, deflated by the implications of what Bruce hasn’t stated out loud. You hear that voice in your head now, telling you that you really should have known better than to expect an act of altruism from Fury. Which makes you wonder about Dr. Stark and Dr. Strange. Were they being used by Fury as well? Most likely, otherwise, why visit you so often? 

That leads to a thought you hadn’t wanted to have. What if they were looking for your lost memory as well? Whose side were they on? Could you trust them? Can you trust your feelings about them, especially about Tony? Who can you trust? Natasha comes to mind, but now you wonder if she’s on Fury’s side more than yours. And with what Miles had told you, there’s obviously two more factions that are wanting you to either remember, or forget completely. 

“I don't know, Bruce,” you whisper. You raise your gaze to meet Bruce’s, your eyes bleak with your new awareness. Anxiety has you scrubbing your hands on your pants, grimacing at the daunting choices in front of you. 

He’s gone back to his normal pose, arms crossed, chin resting in one hand as he watches you, the other holding his tablet tucked under his elbow. At your whisper, he brings up the tablet and taps it a couple of times. “There, I’ve alerted security that this area has been sealed for protective purposes. Now,” he glances at you to make sure you’re paying attention, “make this area soundproof.”

Your jaw drops a little at his request, disbelief in your eyes. Smirking, he reaches out and closes your mouth with one finger. He sets the tablet down then motions with his finger, wagging it around, back and forth, and you realize he’s indicating that the cameras are still working. With a brief nod, you open your mouth and give that odd *huff* that you’ve learned causes other sounds to be completely muffled. 

Bruce grins as the sounds around you stop, sounds of office equipment and medical machines that you hadn’t really payed attention to until now. You do notice that Bruce has clenched his jaw and that weird green gloss has appeared again in his eyes. The thought that this might be activating his enhanced abilities chose that moment to surface. That was almost enough to make you release the baffle effect, but he steps forward until he is right next to you, his leg brushing yours. Without any warning, he bends down and lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump a bit in startlement. A wry chuckle comes to you, transmitted by his touch. 

“Cool beans. I can see how useful this could be out in the field.” 

Your amusement at his use of the old expression mingles uncomfortably with the rest of his words. His tone is more gravelly, as though it’s a struggle for him to get the words out. With his hand on your shoulder, his voice is heard as though he were saying them in your ear. You get the need for him to act as though he is testing you. What he is saying is for you and no one else.

“Listen carefully, [Y/N]. There’s forces at play here that we can’t see just yet. It’s very important that you remember, yes. But it is more important who gets that knowledge first.” He gives your shoulder a squeeze, bringing your gaze up to his. “This is a very delicate time for our kind. You have a good heart and great training. Use them. Don’t trust people easily. I know you don’t already, but you need to be even more wary. And watch out for yourself. Some of these parties would rather see you dead than let another faction get the advantage of your knowledge.”

With a pat on your back, he steps back a pace and holds out his hand, pulling you to your feet when you take it. You maintain the baffle effect, not knowing if he was done yet. Glancing sideways at Bruce, it seems his jawline is a little more pronounced, as the rest of his facial structure. He smiles at you, hard and eager, like he’s ready for action. Unnerving as it is, you stay steady, sure in the fact that he has never shown you any sign of being a threat. In fact, you are sure he is only showing you this as a sign of trust. That is something you can relate to.

“Pick wisely,” he murmurs to you, his gaze shifting to some middle distance. “You know who you can trust in your heart. You can hear it in their voices, if you try.” 

With that, he moves away from you, motioning with his hand for you to let the baffle effect drop. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you wonder how he knew, then remind yourself that he is the leading expert on enhanced beings. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he would know something about your ability that you hadn’t told anyone, not even Natasha. 

With a shake of your head at his brilliance, you move to get back to your chair, wondering if this whole thing was set up by him so he would have a reason to get you alone to talk. He intercepts you, holding a paper file in his hand that he holds out until you take it.

“Go on now. You’re gonna be late for your therapist.” His mild, infectious grin is back, as is his slump-shouldered, laid-back mannerisms and that slight squint behind his glasses, as though he can’t quite see what he’s looking at, even with their help. 

You head out the door, file in hand, your admiration and regard for Bruce having risen several degrees in just the little time since he’d come into your office. Conversely, your respect for Fury has risen, even as your trust of him has taken a nosedive. You reflect on that oddity as you make your way through the labyrinthine hallways of the skyship, not focusing on the people you pass along the way. Crossing the concourse that is the main hallway running down the middle of the ship here on the lower deck, you’re stopped by someone calling your name.

“[Y/N]! Hey, I am so glad to get to see you!” The sound of running feet greets your ears as you turn to the man coming toward you. A feeling of dread hits your guts even as you put on your best smile to greet him in return.

“Hello, Miles! What brings you down this way?”


	13. Down - Verse 3 - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 3  
> You know we could put them all to shame  
> Now isn't the time to play it safe  
> Isn't this the reason why you came?  
>  **So, baby, don't you let it go to waste**
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Previously: _Crossing the concourse that is the main hallway running down the middle of the ship here on the lower deck, you’re stopped by someone calling your name._

_“[Y/N]! Hey, I am so glad to get to see you!” The sound of running feet greets your ears as you turn to the man coming toward you. A feeling of dread hits your guts even as you put on your best smile to greet him in return._

_“Hello, Miles! What brings you down this way?”_

=============================

Miles pulls up and drops his bags at your feet, swinging you around in his arms and setting you back down before you have a chance to let out more than a squawk in protest. Despite having just run down the concourse, he isn’t sweating or out of breath. You didn’t know the specifics but he’d been in the Enhanced training program same as you, so this isn’t a surprise, just a reminder. His eyes are hid behind dark sunglasses so it’s hard to see if his smile is reflected in them, but his voice gives off vibrations of relief.

“Nice to see you too! I’m here cuz I’m on my way out to my next assignment. What about you? Are you okay? I’m so glad to see you before I have to leave. I heard you lost your position because of what happened. Is it true Fury sent to down to Banner’s lab for testing?”

The rush of words has you chuckling and ducking your head in embarrassment, even as you find yourself analyzing his words for their underlying tones. Blaming Bruce’s words on your newly discovered paranoia, you shrug his questions off, trying to lessen their weight.

“Well, of course I did,” you address his statement, the easiest one of them, first. “What did you expect?” 

You raise an eyebrow as you look up at him, watching his face closely. Even so, you almost missed the micro-expression when his mouth twitched to one side. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and not give anything away, you answer his last question, waving one hand in dismissal. 

“No, no testing. That’s just gossip and rumors. I’m his lab assistant. It’s low stress and plenty of down-time for better recuperation. Seems I overdid it, with your help.” You smirk up at him, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. 

His reaction is not quite what you expect. Sure, there’s the embarrassed snigger and grin, along with the blush, but there’s also some clearing of his throat, low enough that anyone else would have probably missed it, along with some feet-shuffling and his hands coming up to touch your arms. Your smirk fades and you raise your eyebrow again, looking up as you try to see past the dark lenses. 

Before you can do more than open your mouth enough to draw a breath, he is stepping back and grabbing a water bottle from the pack on his back. He takes a couple of swallows, then puts it away and steps closer again. 

“Well, [Y/N],” his voice is low and soft when he speaks, licking his lips nervously, “I need to get going. How ‘bout a kiss goodbye?”

His hands slide up your arms, then around your waist. You lean back, then reach up and take his glasses off his face, wanting to see his eyes and read what is in them. His emotions do seem to be showing, as his eyes are moist and sorrowful. Taking a deep breath, you nod and tilt your head back.

The kiss is both more and less than you expect, his lips touching yours hesitantly at first, then slowly deepening until his tongue slips between your lips, sliding up your tongue and then back as he ended it. Pulling back, you catch the furrowing of his brow before it smooths out as he smiles down at you. You narrow your gaze at him, but he plucks the sunglasses from your fingers and replaces them. With a nod and a smile that might have tinges of regret in it, he takes a couple of steps back, then salutes you with two fingers.

“Take care! See ya around!” With those parting words, he turns and trots off, almost as fast as when he was coming toward you. 

=======================================

Miles’s reactions and actions replay over and over in your head as you ride the quinjet to New York for your appointments. First one is for your next checkup with Dr Stark, making your breath catch and your heart rate to go up every time you think about seeing him again. The thought of seeing your therapist later in the afternoon isn’t as pleasant, so you pass the ride with idle daydreams of going out to lunch with Tony. Sometimes they are with Stephen, or both, but as much as you’d love to see them both, the thought of spending time alone with Tony makes you giddy, and horny. 

You’d thought that feeling would have abated after the interlude with Miles, but it only made it more obvious how much you wanted to do the same thing, but with Tony in your bed. Sending him a message once the WiFi in the quinjet was activated, you had to restrain yourself from doing more than expressing how much you were looking forward to the appointment. It is probably the first time you’ve ever been this eager to see a doctor in your life. Which is why you’re surprised to receive a message from Stephen telling you he’d be the one to pick you up at the airport. 

The quinjet lands in the area designated for SHIELD transport, on the other side of the General Admissions from the main terminals. This made it easier to keep the area secured as well as allowed agents and advisors quicker exits through security. Stephen is waiting for you there, hands in the front pockets of the white denim jeans scrunching up the bottom of the blue poplin button-up that is his normal outfit when he isn’t in scrubs. You wonder how he managed to get through security until you see the Doctors Without Borders badge hanging from the lanyard around his neck. 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or did you let Tony finally talk you into signing on?” You give a shake of your head and a wry grin as you come to where he waits. Tony badgering him to sign on for specialty services with the organization had been one of the many topics of conversation while you’d been going through PT. 

Stephen’s smile goes from eager to sheepish, his head ducking down as his face glows pink along the high cheekbones. When he raises his head again, his gaze has more warmth than you are expecting. He gives you a big grin, reaching out to take hold of your arms and pulling you close.

“It’s really good to see you again.” His voice is laden with emotions that you barely have time to register before he kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly. 

It’s surprisingly easy to slide your arms around his waist and lean into the hug. Nearly three weeks have gone by, but it’s as if it was only yesterday that you’d had to walk away from his and Tony’s offer. His body is lean and muscular beneath your hands, just as you remembered it from the last time you’d hugged him like this. The sigh he releases as you hug him back brings moisture unbidden to your eyes and it takes you a good half-minute to regain your composure. You force yourself to step back, needing a little distance to balance yourself again.

“I missed you too, Stephen,” you murmur, looking up into his emotional gaze. The joy in his eyes is easy to read, though it overlays other, more complex emotions that you don’t feel ready to delve into just yet. Feeling the need to turn his attention, and yours, to something less serious, you give a chuckle. 

“Did Tony get called into surgery or something? I was sure he was going to pick me up. Not that I know what time my appointment is. Bruce only told me this morning that I was coming for a checkup. Guess that part slipped his mind.”

Stephen shakes his head, sniffing and chuckling at your abrupt change of the subject. “Not exactly. I uh, volunteered to come get you because we need to talk and I figured it would be better if I, um, if you heard from me what we have decided.” 

Before you can react, or say anything, he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the lobby of the airport, not stopping for any reason until he reaches his car, parked outside in the pick-up lane. He refuses to look at you again until he has the top down and the car moving out into traffic. The thoughts in your head are a swirl of doubt and heated emotions, bubbling together until you can’t stand it any longer.

“Tell me what?” Your demand comes as he stops for the light leading out of the airport and toward the city proper. His chin had been propped in his left hand as it rested on the door while his right one handled the steering wheel and paddle shifter. The fact that he had covered his mouth this whole time since getting into the car is not lost on you. He turns and meets your hard glare, just to give you a knowing smirk and turn back to rev the engine and take off as the light changes, sending the car shooting through the intersection. 

Centrifugal force pushes you back into the plush leather seat, but you keep your head turned to him, viewing his profile as you wonder if you can get away with punching him without causing a wreck. Maybe in the leg, you think, dropping your gaze to his thigh, only to have your mind consider how his muscles bunch and roll as he manages the brake and gas pedals while moving skillfully through the noontime traffic. It becomes harder to keep the glare as you watch him drive, appreciation for his ability tempering your ire the more you watch. 

Drawing a deep breathe, you turn to face the front of the car, deciding to wait until you reach your destination before giving into your doubts and fears. From the corner of your eye, you catch him looking over at you again, that same complex mix of emotion on his face and in his voice.

“I find that a nice car ride is so very soothing when one is in the throes of strong emotion, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, recalling the first time you heard him speak, how you had detected those notes of sardonic expression that turned out to be a cover for his emotional state. Another deep breathe and you push the doubt aside, allowing your own feelings to surface. It’s now perfectly clear why you found his words terrifying. The other thing that becomes clear once you set the fears aside is that this isn’t bad news. Accepting that based on what his tone is telling you, along with his body language, you are able to return to the eager happiness you’d felt earlier. Your eyes open and you turn your gaze back to Stephen, giving him a happy grin.

“Yes, I do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to take a nice car ride. Thank you.”

Amazement at your response mixes with the other emotions in his expression and for a moment he appears to be at a loss for words. Then a huge grin takes over his face, and with a laugh he shifts into a higher gear and races the cars alongside him, zipping in and out of traffic like a maniac. Several minutes of this go by, with him tossing grins over at you everytime he makes a daring move, as though he is testing to see if you are going to ask him to stop. 

The adrenaline pumping through your veins as the danger rises is a welcome surge that you haven’t felt in nearly three months now. You had missed it and hadn’t realized it until now, but that isn’t something you want to talk about. Others like you, like Natasha and probably Iron Man, they would understand. Watching Stephen drive, you admit that he would probably get it as well. 

========================

Stephen’s POV

Stephen is pretty sure he has never been this happy in his life. Not even when he and Tony had graduated with seven degrees between them. After the conversation he’d had last night with Tony, he’d decided on this course of action, pushing out all his doubts about these feelings he’d been holding in secret, for you and for Tony. He looks over at you again and again, watching your excitement as he drove bring a glow to your demeanor that he’d never seen before. 

In fact, you were looking better than you had when you left the hospital. After Tony’s description of your breakdown in Fury’s office, he had been worried that your health was worse, but it’s obvious that isn’t the case. Half a dozen questions about what could have caused your reaction shoot through his head, but he dismisses them, more interested in you here and now. Surprising as this is, he is enjoying every moment, even that brief second of terror when you had all but yelled at him. 

His own excitement continues to rise as he gets closer to where he is taking you. Finally, he pulls into a garage, trying hard not to laugh out loud at the confusion on your face. He knows you had been expecting to see Tony for a checkup, but that was merely the excuse he’d concocted to get you down here. Contacting Dr Banner and telling him that you were due for your physical had been only the first part of his plan. Now that you are here as the second step, he is nervous but confident that Tony will be a willing participant in step three. 

Parking the car, Stephen gets out and opens your door for you, allowing his grin to overtake his face as he helps you up and out of the low seat. Your look of perplexion is interrupted by an answering grin, joined by a blush when he kisses the back of your hand. He leads you to the elevator, your hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. When he pushes the up button, your raised eyebrow is answered with another grin. 

“I never pegged you as one for surprises and secrets, Stephen.”

Feeling another blush surge over his cheeks, he takes your hands in his and kisses their backs, loving how that action makes you blush and simper. Winking and grinning even more, he almost can’t get the words out.

“Just another minute and you’ll see what’s going on. I’m almost certain you’ll agree, if you can stand the wait, it’ll be worth it.”


	14. Down - Verse 4 - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 4  
>  **Every single thing is feeling right**  
>  Started as a quiet Friday night  
> I don't really think that we should fight this  
> What if we don't stop until it's light?
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader is an Enhanced agent of SHIELD, with sonic manipulation as her main power. She has also been equipped with an Arc Reactor, similar to Tony’s, due to irretrievable splinters left in and near her heart after a major explosion during a fight with HYDRA down in Caracas, Venezuela.

_"Wait..."_ Stephen had said. 

You agree, eagerly nodding your head to his request, but his enthusiasm is infectious. By the time the elevator reaches its destination and the doors are sliding open, you're practically bouncing on your toes. The only thing that keeps you from running out onto the rooftop of the garage is Stephen holding your hand hostage, still tucked in the crook of his elbow. Even then, once you see who is waiting for you there, you very nearly pull free anyway. 

Tony rises to his feet from the table that has been set up in the corner of the rooftop, grinning as he meets your gaze. Unable to contain your excitement any longer, you tug on Stephen’s arm, pulling him along with you as you jog across the cement. You laugh as he protests, knowing from his own laughter that he is almost as excited as you. The moment you reach the table, you release Stephen and dash around the table and into Tony’s arms. 

It’s become second nature to guard your reactor from bumps and scrapes as you move around on the skyship, but still you manage to be careless enough as you hug Tony that the two arc reactors touch their edges together as you and he come together in a tight embrace. Shifting only enough to stop the ringing, the two of you find yourselves tucked into the spaces between neck and chin and shoulder. You feel the breathe from his nostrils even as you’ve got your mouth and nose a hair’s breadth from his skin, breathing deeply of his scent as you struggle to keep your composure. His arms around your ribs squeeze you, just as your arms around his neck give him very little room to take a breathe. 

“Oh Tony,” you murmur and are greeted with a faint murmur of your name, his lips brushing your flesh, raising goosebumps along the exposed flesh there. Your shiver is met with a soft chuckle as his hands splay out over your spine, holding you even as he leans back to look you in the eyes. His eyes are warm and filled with emotions that cause your heart to skip beats. You find your gaze roving over his face, drinking him in and thinking that you want to surrender to this urge to kiss him. Your hands slip up to cup his cheeks and he gives you a knowing smile.

“Well, I am going to kiss you, [Y/N], so I suggest you avert any protests before -”

“Shut up shutting up already, Tony,” you murmur, then you are up on your tiptoes, leaning into the kiss, your lips and his meeting with a slight electric jolt of static that only serves to enhance the sensations shooting up to your brain and down your spine. More goosebumps spread across your skin, up and down your back, along the back of your arms and down your thighs, the only place they don’t pop up is where you feel the heat over your abdomen and in between your legs. Before you can do more than acknowledge that heat, his head tips to the side, allowing his lips to angle against yours. They are soft and warm and you can’t help but taste them, opening your mouth and slipping your tongue over them, humming so softly it barely makes a sound. 

Tony feels the vibration of you humming throughout his skull, a pleasant buzz that heightens the sensitivity of his skin. He wonders if you know you’re doing it, or how it makes him feel. Melting into your kiss, taking your lips and letting your tongue wander where it will, his main thought is how long will this last and will you let him do it again. The feel of your body under his hands is something he has dreamed about for a long time now. The past few weeks have been so bad he has hardly been able to sleep. 

Stephen had been the one that set this up, for which Tony is eternally grateful. He wonders if Stephen has feelings for you as well. As far as he knew, Stephen hadn’t been one to form casual relationships with anyone, man or woman. In all the years they’d been roommates, Tony had only ever seen Stephen date one or two women and then, just last night, the look he’d given when they were in the kitchen had revealed so much more than expected. For just a moment, Tony wishes he could place his feelings for you on hold so he could explore what he’d seen in Stephen’s gaze. 

Instead, Stephen had joined him for breakfast and suggested this rendezvous as a way to see if you could be persuaded to give up your allegiance to SHIELD when faced with the choices that are coming down from the world’s governing powers. The joy in your face is something that Tony is treasuring, knowing it isn’t likely to last once you sit and talk with him and Stephen. 

Easing back from the kiss, Tony can’t help the grin spread over his face. He feels like he is flying without a suit, freefalling without the danger of crashing, at least not physically. Glancing over at Stephen for just a brief moment, he sees a radiant happiness suffusing his friend’s expression like none other. Wanting to include the both of you, he takes another step back and opens one side of the embrace, inviting Stephen to join in.

“Group hug! Come on, Stephen, don’t be shy. You’re the one that made this happen. Get in here!”

You grin and open your arm on that side as well, motioning him closer. It is clear that he hadn’t thought about this as an option and blushes as he reluctantly steps forward into the embrace. Sliding your left arm around his lean waist, you pull him close on that side even as Tony pulls him in on his right, the three of you closer now than ever. Looking up at their handsome faces, your heart is filled with more joy than you can handle and you sniff as your stupid eyes start to leak.

“Hey, hey, why you crying?” Tony’s voice is soft and sweet with his concern. He and Stephen wrangle their arms a moment before disengaging. You haven’t let go of either of their waists, so they are stuck with one hand free while the other holds you, though they use it to their best advantage. Each of them swipe at one of your cheeks, their gentle concerned faces making you blush and hide your own against their shirts. Helpless to do anything more for the moment, they end up hugging you tightly between them, cooing and murmuring soothing noises at your head as you grip their shirts and attempt to breathe. 

Gazing at Tony over your head, Stephen smiles at him and winks. “See, told you this was a good idea.”

“Oh, making [Y/N] cry is a good idea? I’m glad you’re taking the blame for this.” Tony quips back, even as they both rub your back and attempt to slide their free arms around your waist, ending in them acting like they are sword-fighting instead of comforting you. 

“You big dummies,” you manage after taking a deep breath to recover from laughing. “It’s on both of you. I wouldn’t be crying if I didn’t love the both of you so much.” 

Your hands slip free of their waists to cover your mouth as you bite your lips. That hadn’t been what you were intending to say and the men in front of you are now stock still and staring at you, shock making their mouths into Os. Looking into Tony’s eyes, then into Stephen’s, you see glimmers of excitement and happy, hopeful gleams, but it isn’t until they practically tackle you and wrap you in their arms that you allow yourself to accept that they felt it too. As further proof, both of them start to kiss you, peppering your cheeks with their excited kisses. 

Wriggling out of their embrace, you manage to throw your arms over their shoulders, hanging your weight on them, and kiss each of their cheeks. They look at you and that’s when you lean over and give Tony another kiss, pulling him close with the arm you have around his neck. The kiss ends and you hear from your left Stephen make a small gasp as though in protest. Looking over at him, you smirk.

“Well, I wasn’t going to just kiss you without your permission. I’m not insensitive.” 

His blue eyes pierce yours, the emotion in them plunging into your psyche. For a flash of a moment in time, you are caught with nothing to shield you from showing him how you feel. When his gaze melts and begins to make you feel that heat in your center again, you push up on your tiptoes and give him a passionate kiss. 

From behind you, Tony makes a slight groan at the back of his throat, something you doubt he’s even aware of and nothing Stephen would have heard. Your ears being extra-sensitive, you catch it and the heat in the pit of your abdomen roars into full blast. Tony’s grip on your waist tightens as he leans into the group embrace. Stephen’s hand slips up under your shoulder blade to the back of your head as he returns the passion of the kiss. You figure his other hand is at Tony’s waist, since you can’t feel it on yours, and the image is enough to make you moan a bit as well. 

The three of you remain clinched for what seems like eternity and the briefest of moments at the same time, only ceasing because you need to breathe. Stephen looks at you like he hadn’t wanted to come up for air, and Tony is looking at the both of you like he wants to dive in. Realizing that this probably isn’t the best place for more of the same, you give each of them a generous kiss on the cheek and reluctantly make your hands release their grips on the collars of the two shirts you’d been holding as though your life depended on it. You would argue that it now did. 

“Well, now that we have that out of the way, is there any chance of actually getting lunch?” Your cheeky grin is enough to get the both of them smiling again, even though it is clear that their emotions are still close to the surface by the way they gaze at you and at each other. The three of you reluctantly step back and it’s a few moments of awkwardness when no one is sure where to put their hands or what to do next, until Stephen remembers his plans and raises a finger in triumphal aha motion.

Surprising you again, Stephen has a lunch in a cooler and picnic basket stashed behind the table. Tony holds his hands up in surrender when you try to compliment him, pointing a finger at the real culprit. You assist Stephen in setting up the table, the both of you wiping your hands with the moist towelettes he brought. Tony begins his routine cleansing, much to your amazement, going through multiple wipes and a bottle of distilled water before holding his hands up to air dry. By the time everything is spread out on the table and you are sitting down to eat, he joins you in the chair that Stephen pulls out for him.

“Do you have to put up with this all the time?” Addressing Stephen while giving Tony a wink and a smirk to let him know you’re only kidding on him, you end up laughing at Stephen’s put-upon frown as he rolls his eyes and nods. 

“I can’t help it!” Tony makes the declaration as he is pulling out a small plastic-wrapped set of flatware and popping the bag open. “It’s completely Stephen’s fault, you know.” 

His smirk at Stephen is met with an indignant gasp. “My fault! How so?”

“If you hadn’t convinced me to go into medicine, I’d have been content with getting my hands dirty in my engineering lab -”

“As if,” Stephen’s interjection interrupts Tony’s tirade, provoking a tongue stuck out in response. 

“I did too get my hands dirty! I’ve built -” Tony’s protest is interrupted yet again by an interjection from Stephen, along with an odd look you can’t quite interpret.

“Ye, we know, Tony. All the different medical equipment your company now makes billions off of. But that’s not getting your hands dirty. That’s just getting messy.” 

Stephen grins at you as you watch them go through what is clearly a comfortable, routine argument. Even as they perform their lines filled with mock indignation and put-on expressions, neither of them are lax in setting up the food and drink. Stephen has almost everything dished out, salads and sandwiches on plates with flatware alongside as Tony is opening and pouring wine into glasses that had appeared with the food. By the time they stop bickering, it’s all ready to eat and they are looking at you expectedly.

“Wow, I am impressed.” You shake your head, unable to come up with anything more.

“The communications expert speaks, ladies and gentlemen!” 

Tony grins and claps his hands, encouraging Stephen to whistle and cheer like he’s a crowd in the background. Both of them laugh as you blush and duck your head, your cheeks going hot with embarrassment. That is quickly heightened as first Tony, then Stephen stand and lean over to kiss your cheeks. You are truly at a loss for words, something that doesn’t happen often, as their outpouring of affection has you overwhelmed and knocked off-center. 

It takes you several minutes of eating the fruit from your plate while you watch Tony wipe down his hands again with the wipes that Stephen has set between them on the table. Watching them interact you’re reminded of when you first met them, back in the hospital after your surgery. You had wondered back then why Tony had been so attracted to you when it seemed like he and Stephen were an item. They are, but not like you’d expected. Now it seems like they are making room for you, something you’ve never experienced.

Always one to have the hard road, it seems, you haven’t ever felt this way about anyone, not even Miles. The question of trust that Bruce had brought up didn’t come into play at all. You could feel how much they cared about you, and you can hear it in every word they speak to you or about you. Sitting there and taking it all in, you feel your world shift, then settle into this new shape, where you belong. 

You tune back into the conversation as Tony is beginning to eat his food, with Stephen pouring a second glass of wine and asking if you need more. As if more wine might be problem, you hesitate, then shrug.

“Well, if my doctors approve, then why not?” 

Stephen laughs and Tony gives you a guilty look. Blowing out a breath of air in a silent laugh, you can’t help but interrogate him. 

“What, Tony? Are you and Stephen gonna tell me what you are keeping such a secret or do I have to guess?”

Stephen chokes a bit on the swallow he’s just taken, prompting Tony to pound on his back for a moment, turning his face away. It isn’t done fast enough to hide another guilt-ridden frown. You watch them both, leaning into each other and sharing looks. A faint glimmer of what it might be comes to you, and you decide to ask a few interrogative questions for real.

Starting off easy, you lean back and take a sip of your wine, watching Stephen but listening to Tony. “So you don’t approve of more wine?”

“No, no, you go right ahead -” Tony’s response is quick and relief-laden. 

“Wine isn’t a problem, [Y/N], or I wouldn’t have poured you any.” Stephen’s response is smoother, showing more thought. To you this says that he is the one that has set something into motion, which Tony may or may not be a willing participant in. You hone in on him, turning your body toward him as well as your gaze.

“So,” you narrow your gaze, a smile flitting about your lips to let him know you aren’t upset, “if it isn’t the wine that’s the problem, then it must be the doctor reference. I wonder…”

You dart your gaze over to catch Tony in a stunned expression, looking like he’d just stepped on your foot or broken your favorite trinket. “Yep, just as I thought. You’re giving me up as a patient, right?”

Once again, you are overwhelmed by emotion as they both blush and protest and try to tell you how much they love taking care of you, interspersed by assurances that they really won’t stop taking care of you, but that it would be unethical for them to continue to do so, all things considered. After several minutes of this, as much as you are enjoying the adoration and gushing over you, you decide to put them out of their misery. Jumping to your feet, you dart over to Tony and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close and plastering kisses over the side of his face and over his ear. When you give him a nip on the earlobe, he lets out a low growl and pushes you back. 

Still grinning, you dash around to Stephen and give him the same treatment. To your surprise, he takes you in his arms and returns the kisses to your cheek, then leans forward and whispers in your ear.

“I told you everything would work out, right.”


	15. Down - Verse 4 - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 4  
> Every single thing is feeling right  
>  **Started as a quiet Friday night**  
>  I don't really think that we should fight this  
> What if we don't stop until it's light?
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Previously: “I told you everything would work out, right.”

When you pull back, Stephen is giving you a smug grin, his eyes sparkling at how pleased he is with himself. You can remember clearly how he’d comforted you the day you’d turned down Tony’s offer for you to come live with them. It’s also apparent to yourself that you don’t regret it. Having everything out in the open this way feels more satisfying. Your throat feels like it’s closing up and you cough, bringing a small frown to your face. Emotions can be so troublesome. 

Taking your seat again, you start on the section of sandwich that Stephen had set on your plate, enjoying the textures of the chicken salad as you chew contentedly. You realize as you listen to them and to the background noise, that you don’t feel the normal pressure to keep yourself to a low profile. With them, you are beginning to feel accepted and loved for who you are, no fear and no pressure for anything more. The decision to tell them that you are Enhanced, to let them into that part of your life, comes easily, for once.

Tony gives Stephen a nod, along with an encouraging wave of his hand and you wonder if they have something else planned. The question in the look Stephen gives in return would indicate that, you think. Watching them more intently now, you catch more of their gestures as they discuss something that they both are reluctant to bring up. You find it adorable that they have this secret language, probably one they aren't even aware of, but patience has never been your forte. After a couple of minutes go by without one of them speaking up, you take a deep breath and smack the table with your palm.

“If one of you doesn't speak up and tell me what you're arguing about and,” you pause to wag a finger in each of their direction, “why you don't want to bring it up to me, I will call a quinjet directly to this rooftop with Agent Romanoff piloting it.”

Having met Natasha several times during your stay in the recovery ward, they both blanch at this threat, talking over each other in sudden eagerness to explain, or rather, decide who is to do so. It takes just a few seconds to devolve into basic sniping.

“Fine, I'll do it then.”

“Yes, please, by all means…”

“Fine, then.”

“Do it already!”

“I am! Just shush.”

“Fine, I will.”

“Fine.” Tony grins at you, nervousness evident in the way he is baring his teeth. Stephen leans back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, hands tucked in under his arms. Tony looks around a moment, his gaze settling on you accompanied by another nervous grin. 

“Um, so we have another thing, the main thing really, for asking you here, that we are, umm, wanting to bring up to you, uh, now, as matter of fact.” 

He runs the last several words together and reaches under the table to pull out a shallow box, only a little larger in diameter than a basic shipping package. The contents are heavy enough for it to thump as it lands, startling you. Stephen reaches out a hand, laying it on your wrist, though for comfort or to keep you from jumping up at Tony, you can’t tell. You give him a sideways glance, then shake your hair back and narrow your gaze at Tony.

“What’s that?” 

Reluctance evident in every move, he lifts a thick report out of the box and holds it out. The way he is looking at it, lips pressed hard together, brows furrowed, tells you it’s not something pleasant.

“This, my dear, is the near future. Every action has reactions and consequences, and unfortunately, this is the consequences of what happened in Caracas. Now,” he holds his hand open, palm toward you, placating you before you even begin to react, which just make you more irritable, “I know you are still not fully cognizant of what happened there, but everyone else thinks they know and those in power are being pressured to act on what limited knowledge is available. Which means we need to get a jump on things before they get out of hand.”

You scowl, your cheeks burning, as you mull over what this implies. Could they be…? Your heart leaps and stutters at the thought that these two might be untrustworthy. Yet Bruce had said, or at least implied, that there were those who wished you ill because of what happened in Caracas. If only you could remember, you tell yourself, begging your subconscious to give up her secrets. 

Stephen speaks into the silence, his words quiet and measured. “We aren’t saying it’s your fault. It’s the fault of those that caused the explosion. But for the past four years -”

“Since New York,” Tony interjects darkly.

“Since the invasion from the wormhole, where the whole world was introduced to The Avengers and the idea of Enhanced beings, it’s been a controversial subject. SHIELD coming out into the open as well has only muddied the waters. Mostly because the nations of the world are still not comfortable giving up their sovereignty when it comes to allowing operatives that are not answerable to anyone but themselves to travel freely without regards to borders.”

“This trite and tired argument again,” you scoff, the anger in your voice giving it a harsher tone than what you usually allow. “These nations were sure quick to call on SHIELD agents and The Avengers when the Chitauri showed up, but when their citizens are being held hostage by HYDRA or some other terrorists group du jour, they want to call foul because some of their government happen to have been getting rich off the illicit activities that we call them out on.” 

“That’s a serious allegation,” Tony doesn’t meet your glare, his eyes sliding down to watch his fingers pluck at the pages of the document.

 

“Why do you think SHIELD was in Venezuela?” You find it an effort to keep your voice even, coughing at the end of your question. Grabbing the glass of wine in front of you, you gulp down several swallows, hoping the spirits will soothe your anger as well as your throat. It burns going down, making you gasp and sneeze as you set it down hard on the table. 

Stephen reaches out and steadies the glass as it rocks. “Are you saying the terrorists there were in bed with the government officials?”

“More liking fucking controlling the government, excuse the language,” you snarl, hands gripping the table edge as you take deep breaths to keep your temper under control. “If it’s the Venezuelans that are spearheading this initiative, you can bet it’s because their HYDRA masters are whipping them into a frenzy about it.”

“That would explain why they, and the other known areas where suspicious activities have been monitored, have become the squeaky wheels here recently,” Tony plucks at his lower lip as he speaks his considerations aloud. 

Against your better judgement you drag the document from in front of Tony and take a look at what has come of those accusations. In bold letters across the top of the front page is plastered the words “The Caracas Accords for Superhuman and Enhanced Beings Registration and Monitoring Initiative” followed underneath by the UN seal and the short list of sponsoring countries. You open the front page and read the blurb located there. ‘This document is a co-sponsored piece of legislation that requires all enhanced individuals to reveal their secret identities and disclose their powers for regulation.’

A groan escapes you as you purse your lips and shake your head, tossing the heavy document back onto the table with a thump. This is specifically why you had joined SHIELD in the first place. After the Battle of New York, when everyone had become acutely aware of Enhanced beings, mutant, Inhuman, or otherwise, you had made the choice to join in where you could be both useful for any future incursions and protected despite your abilities. Now that sacrifice doesn’t look to be enough, which isn’t a surprise to you, considering how many times you and your fellow agents have had to address these concerns before. 

“The squeaky wheel, in this case,” you speak slowly, carefully choosing your words, “may seem like legitimate stakeholders in this moment, but with all the attention on them, who is going to be looking at what deals are being made behind the closed doors and out on the golf courses around the world? If SHIELD and The Avengers give in and sign this thing, there goes our accountability. Boom! There goes our rights to decide where our resources are needed. Boom! There goes any and all decision-making that hasn’t been ran through God knows how many committees before being given the go-ahead. Tell me,” you push at the document, sliding it further toward Tony, “how anyone could predict something like New York? How long was anyone aware that the helicarriers over Washington D.C. had been taken over by HYDRA?” 

Tony’s hand is over his mouth, his eyes showing the pain he feels at your words. You know he is probably just trying to help, but it’s obvious to you, being an active agent for the past four years, that he doesn’t have full knowledge of the issue here. The stakes for those like you, and Bruce, and all the others such as Captain America and anyone not just using technology to boost their abilities, are so much higher than what shows on the surface. Seeing his reaction to what you’ve said, you are convinced he isn’t doing this to do anything more than give you a heads-up. Your trust in him, as well as in Stephen, is cemented by this, but you still have to ask one more question.

“How did you get this if it’s still being ratified?”

“It’s because I -” Tony starts off, then stops and looks over at Stephen, biting his lower lip. “I have connections as one of the major sponsors of SHIELD.”

He isn’t looking at you, so it’s hard to see what’s in his eyes, but his voice is telling you this isn’t full disclosure. You feel your face and throat flush with heat and you have to swallow hard to keep back words that you might regret if you let them out. Not willing to let it go this easily, you do have a few more things that you feel need to be said. 

Reaching out your hand to him, you wait for a moment until he reaches out and twines his fingers with yours. A light squeeze gets him to look up at you. You want him to know you aren’t intending this to come as an attack. 

“I know you’ve been the major backer behind The Avengers, and SHIELD. Your technology has made some amazing things possible. There isn’t anything that anyone can say to take that from you. But if we are in such need of oversight, where does that leave you? Are these governments going to pay you back for what you’ve contributed toward clean-up? Or now that it’s convenient for them, are they just going to take everything away from you, from SHIELD, from The Avengers and put us on a shelf? I’m sorry, Tony, but that feels real ungrateful of them right now.”

“If we can’t accept limitations on our abilities, how does that make us any different than the bad guys?” Looking at you directly now, Tony’s expression is a mix of guilt and anger. 

“I don’t have a problem with my own limitations. What I have a problem with is letting a committee decide how to apply my skills. Having a commanding officer is one thing. If Captain America tells me to go over that way or Natasha tells me go another way, they are the ones in command and can make those choices based on what is needed right then and there. If we have to wait for a group of politicians to decide if it’s in everyone’s best interests where we go and when we act, it’s gonna be like a group of firefighters sifting through the ashes instead of fighting the blaze!”

Your breath is gone after that, and you find yourself panting hard, as though you’ve sprinted the length of a football field, holding onto Tony’s hand tighter than you had wanted to. Embarrassment takes over, now that you’ve finished your impassioned speech. Cheeks burning as you try to catch your breath, you release his hand and stand, walking a short distance away from them both. Whispers behind you tell you they are talking but you find yourself tired and don’t bother to listen in, though it’s almost not necessary. 

Footsteps approach, Stephen’s, not Tony’s. You remain still, the light breeze bringing goosebumps to your warmed skin. Just as you shiver, he wraps his arms around you from behind and leans his head on your shoulder. From the corner of your right eye you can see him watching you as he hugs you. A wry half-smile tugs your lips in his direction, eliciting a similar response from him. 

“Are you okay?” His murmured inquiry vibrates down into your heart. Turning in his arms, you tuck your head into the nook of his shoulder and wrap your arms around his waist. Beneath them you can feel his lean, muscular torso quiver and then relax. You’d grown up around horses and had similar experiences when calming an over-excited or scared young colt. Lack of experience was the root of most fear, is what you’ve found, making you wonder if Stephen suffers from the same thing. Nodding your head against his shoulder, you take one last deep breath, then step back and look over at Tony.

The frown on his face could be interpreted several different ways. He’d put on his sunglasses, blocking your view of his eyes and preventing you from reading his emotions. Arms crossed over his chests indicate that he is still upset, but since you can’t tell if it’s at you, you focus on his heart beat. The arc reactor in his chest hums quietly, as always, bringing to mind the scene in Fury’s office. You find yourself wondering if the man in the Iron Man suit has an arc reactor of his own, or it is just for powering the suit, because they sound the same. Tony’s heart is pounding, racing like he’s angry. Or aroused, you realize. Could be both, your voice in your head tells you. The thought is titillating. 

One arm still around Stephen’s waist, you step toward Tony, pulling Stephen along with you. You tell yourself that you started this and that you and Tony may not see eye to eye on the Accords, but you aren’t about to let this stupidity affect your day together. Stephen spins around behind you, his arm and yours sliding along each other as you move forward. Reaching the table with your hand now being held by Stephen as he trails behind you, you reach out your free hand to Tony.

“Please, let’s put this away and get back to drinking more wine and talking about anything else.”

Tony takes your hand and pulls you to him, scooting his chair out and grabbing you by the hips until you are sitting in his lap. Stephen grabs your chair and scoots forward until his knees are tangled in your’s and Tony’s. With Tony’s arms around you and Stephen’s hands on your knees, you are back in the new world you had found earlier. Stephen is staring at you though and it’s disconcerting, especially when you look over and find Tony is as well. 

“What?” you laugh nervously as you ask them that all-encompassing question. 

When Tony lays his head on your shoulder, you lift your arm to settle it across his shoulders, shifting his head to rest on your chest. Impulsively, you kiss the top of his head, fluffing his hair with your fingers as you do. Your gaze is caught by Stephen, whose return grin makes you sigh. On your chest, Tony sighs as well, his arms around your waist now. You hold out your other hand to Stephen and he twines his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. 

It’s probably three or four minutes of the three of you simply sitting and relaxing there, small movements between each of you, hands changing their hold, little kisses given and received, your legs shifted onto Stephen’s lap, his hands kneading your calves, Tony’s chest against your shoulder, your hip resting against his, before anyone does more than make small satisfied noises.

“I know this is a very sensitive subject for you, [Y/N],” Tony speaks while laying his head on your back, causing vibrations to rumble through your chest. You wonder if you are hearing him louder because of your metal ribcage, as Stephen doesn’t seem to hear it at all. Then to, he is laying half over your lower legs, his head on the lower part of your thighs as you run your fingers through his hair. Refraining from an answer, you wait to see where Tony is going with this.

It takes him a moment to speak again, as though he’d been waiting for your response. “When we first asked you to move in with us, I had no idea that something like was in the pipeline. And now that it’s here, or close enough to count, Stephen and I, we want you to reconsider.”

The fact that both of them tensed ever so slightly with that pronouncement means a lot to you. More than you expected. Both of them wanting this, nervous about asking this of you, brings tears to your eyes. The Accords proposal does make a huge difference, but not like they think. With this up and coming, the danger of being an Enhanced being and not being part of SHIELD, not being registered would be tantamount to either retiring completely, or risk being listed as a criminal. 

The temptation to give it all up for them hits you like a ton of bricks. For several minutes after Tony’s statement, despite them both being on tenterhooks, all you can do is focus on breathing and keeping tears from bursting out. Eyes closed, you aren’t aware of Stephen looking at you until he sits up and leans forward, wrapping you in his arms. Behind you, Tony buries his face between your shoulder blades, kissing you there over the thin fabric of your shirt. 

Words escape you yet again as you hide once more in Stephen’s embrace. When you are calm enough to talk, you stand, shedding their embrace so you can find some coherent way to tell them what you need to. You had intended this to be more of a happy reveal but now, it’s the only way you see to explain where you stand. The irony of standing to make your stand doesn’t escape you.

“Guys, I have to tell you something.” You lay a hand on each of their shoulders, waiting until they turn their heads up to look at you. When they do, you can see Tony is the one with damp cheeks. “I know you think that me quitting SHIELD and moving in with you would solve this problem, but unfortunately, it won’t. This isn’t going to just affect agents. It covers all Enhanced, and I’m not sure you realize, that means me.”

Tony’s expression turns quizzical, his head tilting as he looks at you from an angle. Not sure how to take this response, you look over at Stephen, only to find him giving you an odd look. It’s patiently impatient, almost like he is waiting for you to catch up to his thoughts. 

Licking his lips, Tony turns to Stephen. “I think she’s drunk.”

Slapping his arm, Stephen growls out amidst poorly restrained chuckles, “Stop it. You’re sounding like a prick. I think you’re the one that’s drunk.”

“Um, guys?” You release your hold on their shoulders. “Do you understand...I mean how could you not? Two of the most brilliant minds in front of me here and all you can do is act like children.” 

Stephen is the first to stand and take you in his arms. He is grinning as he kisses your cheek. Tony rises to his feet and lays his hands on your’s and Stephen’s shoulders, stepping close to hug you both. 

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” Stephen murmurs in your ear, “it’s just that we didn’t expect you to use that as your objection.”

Startled, you turn your head to look at him. On your other side, Tony leans in and gives you a peck on your ear. His grin as you tilt your head to look at him from the corner of your eye is giddy.

“If you’re trying to reveal to us that you are Enhanced, with unusual abilities in the area of say, sonic manipulation and control,” he pauses for effect, his grin now spread from ear to ear, “we already knew.”


	16. Down - Verse 4 - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songfic: angst/romance based on the song Down by Marian Hill from the [ACT ONE](https://open.spotify.com/user/12122560918/playlist/2SWWHALGPY6LBGU346NRVU?si=diN_Z1O6SGWVpOdNfSj1UA) album
> 
> **Down - Verse 4**  
>  Every single thing is feeling right  
> Started as a quiet Friday night  
>  **I don't really think that we should fight this**  
>  What if we don't stop until it's light?
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Previously: _Stephen is the first to stand and take you in his arms. He is grinning as he kisses your cheek. Tony rises to his feet and lays his hands on your’s and Stephen’s shoulders, stepping close to hug you both._

_“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” Stephen murmurs in your ear, “it’s just that we didn’t expect you to use that as your objection.”_

_Startled, you turn your head to look at him. On your other side, Tony leans in and gives you a peck on your ear. His grin as you tilt your head to look at him from the corner of your eye is giddy._

_“If you’re trying to reveal to us that you are Enhanced, with unusual abilities in the area of say, sonic manipulation and control,” he pauses for effect, his grin now spread from ear to ear, “we already knew.”_  
=====================================

Tony’s words hit you like a freight train, stopping your breath, your heart, even the thoughts in your head. “we already knew.” The words echo around the inside of your hollowed out skull, bouncing from bone wall to bone wall without restraint. No one has ever treated this revelation, so casually. Tony’s acknowledgement, so flippant and accepting, along with the way Stephen seems surprised that you felt the need to bring it up, leaves you shocked you to your core. 

Having had to spell your objection out for no good reason, you find the warmth you’d been suffused with has dissipated. Your skin, previously flushed and hot when you were discussing the Accords, is now cold, chills dropping like hailstones down into your belly. The fact that they didn’t jump in and stop you before you made a fool of yourself, because as it turns out, they had already known, slices like a shard of ice into your heart. Arms and legs, heart and mind, all are numb to the point that you aren’t sure how to react, weighed down by the cold dregs of all these emotion flooding through you, washing away anything like normality. 

All that is left is the question of what they had truly meant when they had asked, when Tony had said, that they wanted you to reconsider their offer. Your belief that SHIELD is the only place that you are certain you can be safe no matter what is decided about the Accords hasn’t changed. Yet here they are, smiling and laughing as though they’ve thrown you a surprise party and are waiting for you to cut the cake. The shock is too much for you to deal with right now. 

Wanting to think, needing to think, to process what has happened in such a short amount of time, to let your heart and mind recover enough to do so, your only response is no response. Without a word, you turn and start walking back to the elevator door where you’d first come out onto the rooftop, fists clenched at your sides the only sign of the turmoil within.

Behind you, Tony and Stephen share a glance filled abruptly with panic. This is not what they were expecting. Scowling, Tony gives his roommate’s arm a backhanded smack. In return, Stephen raises his finger at Tony, his brows knitted with worry. A few seconds of tossing the blame back and forth is all it takes for you to pass beyond their reach, forcing them to run after you. 

This time it’s Tony that comes after you first, but Stephen isn’t far behind. Not that you have enough energy to care. The only thought you have at the moment is that you need time to think and it’s time for your appointment with the therapist that Bruce had recommended. Tony reaches out and grabs your elbow, bringing you to a halt, though you refuse to turn back to face him. Tension in your frame makes you vibrate under his hand. 

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], we didn’t, I didn’t mean it like that. I just -”

“You knew.” It’s not a question, the way you phrase it. The accusatory tone is edged with a buzz that speaks danger to anyone that’s worked in the field with you. Still facing the elevator door, waiting for the car to make it’s way up to the rooftop, you can’t bring your gaze higher than your toes. “You knew, yet still you threw that shit in my face. Did you think it would make a difference?”

Your head comes up as you swing around to face them. Tony is right behind you, face pale, surprise giving his mouth a reason to hang open. A few steps back, Stephen is standing with arms crossed and hands tucked in tight. His shoulders are hunched as he looks over one of them at you, guilt and worry marking furrows in his narrow mien. Glaring at them, you raise a fist for emphasis.

“Did you really think that if you accepted my differences, show me that you embrace the fact that I am not like other humans, it would make everything okay and we could all go live happily ever after. Meanwhile the rest of mutantkind, the rest of the enhanced community, just suffer under whatever restraints and restrictions the rest of the world, the ‘normal’ people, decide what would be best?” Your hands are still fisted as you do your best in your current state of mind to restrain yourself. You want to make a point here, not destroy things. 

“No.” Tony’s simple reply gives you pause. Shaking your head back and forth, you grimace at him, waiting for his rebuttal. His solemn expression is tinged with remorse. 

“Don’t you think we know what it’s like to be different? To be not-normal?” The catch in his voice tears at your defenses, attacking the wall you are trying to raise to keep your heart from breaking wide open. He raises a finger and wags it between him and Stephen. “Both of us have been outsiders our whole lives. Not enhanced, so no, we’ve never had to worry about that specifically. But don’t you think growing up around people that have half our intelligence might give us enough perspective to relate to how this affects those it targets?”

It’s a point of pride for you that among your fellow agents, you are considered to be the most level-headed. Yes, you are known to be impatient, but only when things aren’t moving as fast as you think they should. But your temper, unlike Natasha’s, isn’t something people generally worry about. Right now, though, hearing Tony compare being an outsider from having genius level IQ and what it’s like out in the real world as an Enhanced is enough to get your blood hot, which helps get it flowing again. 

“How dare…” the words are on their way out of your mouth when Tony holds up both hands, giving you an empathetic look, one that asks you to listen to him. 

“We’ve been this way our whole lives. I graduated MIT at the age of 17, Stephen finished Princeton at the age of 16. It’s not easy, not being able to drive to your high-school graduation because you’re only 12. How do you think we felt when we couldn’t relate to those around us? No, it’s not as though our lives were in danger, but tell that to an 8 year old that can’t go out among kids his age because they will beat him black and blue for being smarter than they ever will.” He nods his head at Stephen. “Boarding schools are the worst for the smart kids. Aren’t they, Stephen?”

Stephen’s gaze never leaves the ground as he nods in agreement with Tony. Stone-faced, his eyes still gleam as though they are holding back years of pain. 

You have to admit that it hadn’t occurred to you how isolating their intelligence might have been for them. Not having gained your power and abilities until you were nearly grown, you had been lucky in that regard. Your formative years behind you, your personality already well-established, the advent of being suddenly, irrevocably different has been less traumatic for you than for most of those you knew that had dealt with the issue their whole lives. 

Thinking back, Tony had been reluctant to bring this whole issue up, which meant to you it was Stephen that had wanted this confrontation to happen. Why, you aren’t sure. Only that he had instigated it, it seems, and now is suffering guilt over it. Guilt you could accept, as that meant he hadn’t wanted to hurt you, but the reason why is the more important thing. Lips pressed hard together, you nod at Tony, acknowledging his point. Arms crossed, you face Stephen.

“Why then was it so very important that you bring this up right now? I understand and I’m grateful that you gave me the heads-up, but why instigate a confrontation over it? Did you think I’d agree with it?” Bitterness colors your voice as you frown at him.

Stephen’s arms come unfolded, his gaze dropping down to focus on his fingers as they tangle with each other. “I wasn't sure. You’ve always been so loyal to SHIELD. I - I had to make sure.”

His voice has dropped to a whisper by the end of his explanation.To look at him, one would have seen his distant gaze and thought he was indifferent to your response. You look at his cheeks, now flushed with emotion. If you hadn’t heard him, you would haven’t known whether he was upset or embarrassed, but his tone reveals how uncertain he is of his decision, holding depth that shows how much he really cares. His voice holds way more information, telling you he is near to bursting into tears.

You are well aware of how often you have had to suppress emotions. With you it’s been since the advent of your powers that you’ve had to do it even more than as a child. Emotional outburst hadn’t been acceptable behavior, no matter how much words or actions had hurt. Growing up in a culture that promoted “grin and bear it” as a matter of pride, it’s second-nature to you. Farming and ranching was a tough life, but it had been the only life you’d known before SHIELD.

The hurt in your heart eases, mellowing as you contemplate his and Tony’s words. Perhaps they hadn’t meant it they way you had taken it. You want more than anything else in the world right now to believe that. Problem is, you are too distraught to trust your judgement to be clear at this time. Recognizing this, you make yourself smile, haltingly, hesitantly, but it comes out enough to provoke a reaction from them. Tony’s gaze softens, even as Stephen’s shows hope blossoming, smoothing out the blank, crumpled look that’s been there since you turned to face them.

Holding out a hand to them, palm down to keep them from rushing you, you blink back tears. “I think I need a little time to think things over. Can we wait until later? Maybe this evening we can have dinner? I’ve got the whole day off after my therapy session.”

Stephen’s tremulous smile is still brighter than his expression had been a few moments ago. He glances over at Tony with a question in his eyes. Tony is already grinning broadly, a light chuckle escaping between his teeth. 

“Of course! Let us know when you get done and we’ll come pick you up.”

The elevator door chose that moment to sound its alarm and slide open. Before you can change your mind or they can step forward, you walk backward into the car, giving them a hesitant wave that continues until the doors slide close. With a jerk and shudder, the car starts down and you slump against the wall, letting out a huge sigh. The release of tension has you leaning your head back, unshed tears sliding down your throat and clogging your airpipe, sending you into another coughing fit. It was bad enough to have you doubled over, choking on your own spit and no place to let it out. 

As the door slides open, you stumble out and feel grateful at the sight of a nearby trash can. After getting rid of the mucus clogging your throat, you wipe your face and mouth with the back of your hand, vowing to find a restroom as soon as you get to the therapist’s office. Straightening up and running your fingers through your hair, you look around, wondering just exactly where you are. Stephen had driven you here but you hadn't really been paying close attention, distracted as you had been by him. 

Facing away from the street, to your left is a tall apartment building, while to your right is the garage where the picnic had been at the top. The stone facade is the same, which usually meant they were connected. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you bring up your map app and wait for it to load. When the location points at you being only a block from Central Park, with the address showing as being on Park Avenue, you can’t help but be impressed. You expand your view on the map, thinking that the area looks familiar. When the Mount Sinai hospital shows up as being just up the street from where you are now, it isn’t much of a surprise. 

Turning back to the road, you catch the doorman of the apartment building giving you a suspicious glare. You smile and nod at him, making him look away. That’s one thing you’ve always found amusing here. No one looked at each other much, just enough to do business. Not like out west or in the south. Times like this, you used that to your advantage. Seeing a cab heading your way with the top light glowing in the shade of the buildings, you step out and wave it down. You’re glad it stops, as you didn’t want to have to whistle for it. Last time you’d done that hadn’t ended so well.

A smile curving your lips for real at that thought, you climb in and give the driver the address of your counseling appointment, right across the street from the hospital. The driver, an old white-haired man wearing a flat cap and sunglasses, turns and lays his arm across the back of the seat as you get comfortable. “Sure thing, darling. You alright? You’re looking kinda green around the gills…”

\-------------------------------------------------------

On the rooftop, Tony watches the doors slide shut on your hesitant wave and scratches his head, mulling over the debacle that had just taken place. Pettiness would demand that he blame Stephen for insisting that they test your loyalty for SHIELD and your support of the proposal. He had tried to tell him that you weren’t some government lackey, despite your allegiance, but Stephen has never been one to take anything simply on trust. Knowing his best friend’s past, Tony couldn’t blame him, but this had almost cost both of them your affection. 

Biting back words of recrimination, he releases his hold on his arm, where he’d grabbed on tight enough to leave a mark instead of grabbing you, which is what he had wanted to do, and reaches out to Stephen. It takes a couple of minutes before Stephen raises his head from the mess his fingers have made of a piece of paper, some forgotten business card or receipt he’d plucked from his pocket to placate fretful digits. The look of anguish in his eyes gives his face a gaunt, hollow look, softening Tony’s heart. It is enough to have Tony stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Stephen’s lean form. Trembling and shaking in his clasp, Stephen simply leans his head on Tony’s shoulder, so distraught he isn’t able to lift his arms to return the embrace. 

Tony pets and strokes Stephen’s head, continuing the gentle rubbing down his back as he murmurs soothing nonsensical words. He doesn’t measure the time, but is sure it isn’t very long before Stephen straightens up, bringing his long arms up to rest around Tony’s neck. Smiling as Stephen gives him a peck on the cheek, Tony leans his forehead on the curve of Stephen’s shoulder. To his surprise, Stephen speaks into the silence, his voice laden with sorrow.

“I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean...I really didn’t intend…” He takes a deep breath and tries again, swallowing noisily, “I wasn’t trying to hurt her. It’s just -” His voice breaks and he falls silent again.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony murmurs, hugging Stephen tightly around his waist and rocking back and forth slowly. “It’s always risky, asking someone to open up and having to do the same. Still,” he steps back and loosens his hold, causing Stephen to do the same, “we’re both invited to dinner and she didn’t wreck anything by screaming.”

Stephen’s reluctant grin at Tony’s quip is encouraging, telling Tony his friend is finding his inner balance again. Looking up into Stephen’s gaze, he catches pain still lurking in the back of cool blue eyes and reaches up before he can second guess himself, curling his hand in the short hair at the nape of Stephen’s neck to pull him forward and close the small distance between them. Stephen’s soft gasp of protest is enough for Tony to go up on tiptoe and capture those lips, taking the advantage while he has the chance. 

This time around it’s Stephen’s arms that end up around Tony’s waist, with Tony throwing his arms around shoulders just a bit taller than his, but enough to have him stretching up to hold on. The kiss is gentle and slow, Tony seeking permission with his tongue, carefully advancing as Stephen relaxes into the moment. Their hands twist into each other’s shirts, feet shuffling to find the balance between them as they explore this newly discovered territory. Nuzzling into Stephen’s mouth, his hands moving up to tangle in soft brown hair, Tony moans, remembering how this had looked with you and Stephen. 

Knowing that this is not the best time, or the appropriate one, though that has less hold on his actions than consideration for Stephen’s feelings, Tony backs off from kissing the breath out of his newly confirmed target of affection and attempts to retreat physically as well. He doesn’t go far, held in place by Stephen’s refusal to loosen his embrace this time. Grinning as he raises his gaze, he is happy to see a return smile, a real one this time, greet him. Stephen’s eyes are clearer now, shining with something better than sorrow or guilt. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Stephen murmurs, dropping his gaze as his cheeks gain a dusting of pink.

“Yeah,” Tony can’t help but chuckle as he bites his lip and smiles, “I know.”


	17. Down - Verse 4 - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Down - Verse 4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpMfP6qUSBo)  
>  Every single thing is feeling right  
> Started as a quiet Friday night  
> I don't really think that we should fight this  
>  **What if we don't stop until it's light?**
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?

Previously in Down - Verse 2 - Part 4: _Three weeks go by aboard the skyship ENTERPRISE and you’ve started to establish a routine - work, therapy, private time, repeat._  
_Everything is working out just fine._  
_Except it’s really not. You can’t seem to sleep, always waking from unremembered nightmares...By the fourth day, you are beginning to consider telling your psych counselor about the lack of sleep._  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Previously in Down - Verse 3 - Part 3: _“I’m fine, Bruce.” You hold up both hands in a show of surrender. “I really am.”_

_“Exactly.” [Bruce] holds up the tablet he’d been using to pull up your vitals...“You are fine. You’re better than fine. You’ve never been this -”_

_“What’s your point?” The question comes out harsh, showing your irritation that just keeps rising as he goads you._

_“There’s no medical reason why you should still be suffering from memory loss, [Y/N]. None.”_

_...you move to get back to your chair, wondering if this whole thing was set up by him so he would have a reason to get you alone to talk. He intercepts you, holding a paper file in his hand that he holds out until you take it._

_“Go on now. You’re gonna be late for your therapist.”_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Previously in Down - Verse 4 - Part 3: _“I think I need a little time to think things over. Can we wait until later? Maybe this evening we can have dinner? I’ve got the whole day off after my therapy session.”_

========================================

Sitting in the cab’s back seat, you wonder what the old man means about being green around the gills. You don’t feel like you’re gonna be carsick. No nausea or even any itchiness, like if you had an allergy attack coming on or suffering from an allergic reaction. You’d never had any serious allergies, except to certain plant pollens. It’s the main reason why you love not being outside except on certain missions. Maybe your face is pale from the stress of your reaction, you aren’t sure, though that is very likely. 

When you first started showing signs of your Enhanced abilities, you had had stress reactions like this. You’d somehow ended up in a hotel room for three days, stuck in a cocoon until you broke free. Back then you had no idea what was happening to you. Once you joined SHIELD, you learned that you had undergone Terragenesis, most likely triggered from fish oil or something else that had been contaminated with the crystal dust that only worked on special humans. After your metamorphosis, you hadn’t told anyone what you had been through. 

It wasn’t until you had been approached by Natasha after an unexpected situation had deteriorated near where you lived in the States, that you had even realized joining SHIELD was an option. Up until then, living out in the wilds and badlands of the western states was the only way you could see to survive. Four years you’ve been with SHIELD and you’ve never discussed with anyone but her what you had experienced. Before today, before this week, you hadn’t lost control of yourself, or had an episode, for nearly three years. 

Thinking about it now, you admit you feel like you’re coming down with something, though it’s probably nothing more than allergies or a bit of a cold. Regardless of the outcome of this, you vow to schedule some vacation time, somewhere hot and sunny and on a beach. Maybe Tahiti even. You’d heard it’s a magical place. Grabbing your phone from the seat next to you, it suddenly hits you that you left your purse in Stephen’s car. Fortunately, you have Google Pay connected to your bank account and can use it to pay the cab fare. 

Finger hovering over your call button, your heart begins pounding as you very nearly dial up Stephen to tell him to bring you your purse. The thought of hearing his voice again, even if it goes straight to voicemail, has you unaccountably panicked. Panting as you move your finger over to Tony’s number, you find that you can’t even contemplate hitting that button right now. Biting your lips, you close the phone app and lock your screen. Telling yourself you’ll get it when you see them later for dinner, you lean forward, head between your knees, until the driver stops the cab. 

“Here we are, darling.” The sound of his hand on the back of the seat is overly loud to your sensitized ears, but you manage to nod and sit up. Opening your phone and bringing up the Google Pay app, you hold it out for him to scan. He waves it away, a faint look of annoyance making more wrinkles on his face.

“I don’t have none of that stuff, dear. Cash or card, only.” Behind his sunglasses, you catch a glint of his eyes as he sees your demeanor drop, your expression going from normal to aghast as you wonder how you’re gonna pay for the ride now. The thought of having to call one of the guys, or Natasha even, is more than you can stomach right now. With a small smile and a shake of his head, he waves his hand again.

“Never you mind, my dear. I’ll charge it to young Mister Stark’s account, same as always. You go get yourself some soup or orange juice. You look like you’re coming down with something.” 

The sound of his croaky, scratchy voice telling you he’s gonna charge it to Tony’s account is probably the sweetest thing you’ve heard all day. Not even questioning why or how he would know to do so, you lean forward and place your hand on his forearm. 

“Thank you so much, Mister,” you pause to look over at his name card, “Uatu. I can’t tell you how much that helps me right now.” 

“Anytime, darling. Be careful, now. Don’t lose your head over it.” He waves again as you get out and close the door, watching as he zips back into traffic. You find yourself thinking he doesn’t drive like he is as old as he looks. 

Turning to face the building, the dizziness hits you without warning. You sway back and forth for a moment, hoping you don’t fall. A steady hand on your shoulder gives you the support you need to stop the vertigo and get your balance back. Looking over, you find yourself looking into pale blue, almost silver, eyes, joined by a wry half-smile to give a very pleasant view of a young man, not too much younger than you, holding onto you and keeping you upright. Catching your breath, you return the smile, noticing how his platinum blond hair bounces in the light breeze with a life of its own. 

“Hey, don’t faint out here. The doctors will charge you double for their services.” His chuckle is hearty and matches the European accent noticeable in his voice. 

Giggling at the quip and your lightheadedness, you cover your mouth as your grin grows and feels like it’s a bit out of control. “No worries, dude. I’ve got an appointment already with one of them. Thanks for the save, though.” 

He nods and jogs off, his shoes noiseless on the sidewalk pavement. Making your way into the building, you’re glad to get into the cool air of the building. You hadn’t noticed it warming up earlier, but you’re sure it’s unseasonably hot for this time of year. The cool air on your cheeks makes you notice how dry your mouth is and you hope your doctor still offers bottles of water. It’s for sure that you could down a full one without a problem right now. 

You step into an empty elevator car, glad it’s not full even though this place is very busy today. Pushing the button for the 4th floor makes you laugh as you realize it was already lit and you chuckle to yourself all the way up. The doors slide open to a small crowd of people waiting to go down and you groan at the thought of having to push through them. Then they all step back and let you through. Silently you walk past them, only realizing as you get beyond the hallway where they were that none of them looked at you. You raise an eyebrow but decide it’s best not to question it. That and you are pretty certain none of them would know what you are talking about if you did. It’s how things like this are. 

Upon reaching the offices of the psychiatric therapist that Bruce had set you up with, one that he personally recommended versus the one that SHIELD had sent to you when you were still in recovery, you check in with the front desk.

“I’m here to see Dr Eisenhardt,” you tell the woman at the desk. 

She gives you a puzzled look, then checks the computer in front of her. “I’m sorry, but who are you here to see?” 

“Dr. Scarlett Eisenhardt,” you point to the door where her name is showing in the window along with several other doctors. 

The lady squints at the window where your finger is pointing and several seconds go by before she gets a look like she has woken up, then smiles and nods at you. “Sure, okay. She’s had to go out of town. You’ve been transferred to,” she peers down at her computer, “Dr. Wanda Maximoff.”

“Who?” Frowning, you shake your head at her. “No, that’s not who I was scheduled to see. I was sent specifically to see Dr. Eisenhardt as part of the SHIELD psych-eval program. I am a SHIELD agent and she is cleared to work with us. You can’t just pawn me off -”

“Is there a problem?” The voice is cool and collected, with the same accent as the young man from outside, though less pronounced. The two are obviously related, at least to you. Her hair is dark red, but the face shape is the same, as are the tonal inflections. You would be willing to bet a large amount on them being siblings. 

The desk lady turns to the newcomer with an eager grin. “No, Dr Maximoff, not a problem. Ms [Y/L/N] was just expecting to meet with Dr Eisenhardt today. She’s the one we couldn’t reach earlier to notify her of the change.”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. Sure, it might seem normal enough for you to have ran into the brother of the doctor that’s taking the place of someone you’ve never actually met, but had been recommended to you by one of the few people you truly trust.After all, she’s just arrived this morning. Why wouldn’t her brother be nearby her when they’ve come to a new city, especially if they are new to the city as well. 

Being a student of Natasha’s, as well as one of her teammates and operatives, you are no believer in coincidence. Her words of wisdom had been pounded into you since the beginning of your training and echo in your head even now. It’s better to be paranoid than dead. At this moment, the only reason you haven’t walked back out the door is because of Bruce’s expectations. 

You step back from the desk, angling yourself so your back isn’t exposed, which meant taking more steps backward as you realize the door is off to your left. Once you are within a few feet of the wall opposite the desk while still facing the Maximoff woman, you grin and hold up your hand. 

“Yeah, no problem. Except I never received a phone call or message and I’ve had my phone with me all day.” You shake it at the two women for emphasis, giving them a humorless grin. 

The Maximoff woman folds her arms and tips her head to one side. “You aren’t worried that we might have had the wrong number?” She frowns and shakes her head a little. “Not worried, concerned. My apologies. I’m not practiced in working with English speakers.”

Nodding your head, you have to admit she has a point. Still, that little prickle crawls along your spine, making your intuition itch. A swipe on the screen of your phone brings up Bruce’s number and you only hesitate a second before you tap it to start the call and then tap the screen again to put it on speaker. 

Bruce’s voice is a booster to your worried psyche when he answers. “Hey, there! What’s up?”

“Hello, Doctor!” You respond to his answer, refraining from using his name same as he hadn’t used yours, following standard protocol for unexpected, unscrambled phone calls on personal phones. “I’m at the Psychiatrist’s office and it seems that Dr. Eisenhardt has been called out of town unexpectedly. There’s her replacement here, a Dr Wanda Maximoff, and I need to know if her clearance is up to snuff.”

A faint signal come over the phone line, not audible to most anyone else. To you, however, it’s subvocal code that you’ve used before, something Natasha came up with when she found out your ability. Essentially it is words transmitted at lower audible tones, like what a cat would use to talk to another cat, and sent over your phone line, allowing you to hear more information than what anyone listening in would. To them it is barely even background noise, while you hear and understand what has been sent. 

Bruce comes back on the line, speaking normally. “Everything checks out. She’s got the correct clearance for handling your case profile. You are good to go.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate you looking into that for me.” You swipe at your phone screen and look over at Dr Maximoff. 

She smiles and opens her arms to you, palms up. “Well, there you are, Ms [Y/L/N]. You’ve got the word of your Doctor that I am qualified to speak with you about your situation.” She draws her brows together in a question aimed at you. “But you aren’t going to trust me that easy, are you?”

You grin and tap the end of your nose, slipping your phone into your back pocket. “Bingo. Give the lady her prize.” 

Dr Maximoff shrugs and clasp her hands in front of her. “Are we at a standoff, then? I have the clearance, but you don’t have the trust. What can I do to gain your trust?”

A wry smile on your face, you step forward and open the door. “How about you join me for a cup of coffee? We can talk a bit and get to know each other.”

Her grin is delighted and she tosses her long red hair back over her shoulder. “That sounds lovely. What a great idea!” 

As you follow her out the door, you think back over what the coded message had said. She and her brother were not well-known, but they had been traced by Bruce back to Sokovia, a small nation that had been carved out of bits and pieces of land leftover when the Cold War and the Soviet Union ended and the historical nations of Eastern Europe had reformed. 

It had also told you that they had first appeared as operatives working for Baron Von Strucker, a well-known agent who had been working for HYDRA since the Cold War. There was a brief mention of experimentation, but nothing in the records with any detail. They had disappeared for a few years, but recently had been spotted back in their hometown. Bruce’s message had ended with a warning to handle them with care if encountered, but didn’t give specifics. Again, coincidences were not something you willing believed in.

Down in the large foyer of the building, over to the side there was a Starbucks tucked into an alcove, just a few coffee machines and a small counter with croissants and other pastries. It wasn’t much, but it was good enough for your purpose right now. You had tucked your phone in your pocket, but what you hadn’t done was cut the call with Bruce completely. He has his phone hooked up and is tracing your call as well as monitoring you and the Doctor. 

“I’ll pay for the coffee,” you offer, pulling your phone from your pocket and bringing up your Google Pay app. “Would you like one of these honey-butter croissants? I swear they are to die for.”

“No, no, I couldn’t eat all of that. It’s too big!” she declines your offer with a soft laugh, then looks over at you. “Unless you want to split it?”

You give her a neutral look, thinking about what you’ve learned over the years in regards to staying safe when there is the possibility of someone with abilities in your personal zone. She gives off vibes of being reserved but friendly, and considering what you know of her background, it fits. Almost too well, which is why you are suspicious. After the stress of earlier, your nerves are not at their steadiest, nor are they completely trustworthy. Ultimately, it comes down to what you feel comfortable with, and right now, you are willing to give her a chance. If nothing else, Bruce would get some interesting recordings for you to go over later.

Giving her a one-shouldered shrug and a grin, you order the pastry along with your drinks and tap your phone’s screen over the reader on the counter, listening as it beeps faintly while processing the transaction. You insist the cashier heat up the pastry and wait at the counter for it, watching her pick out a seat to wait for you. 

It’s a bit of a surprise to see that the table she chooses to sit at is the one farthest out into the open area of the foyer, though there are fewer people out that way. Sticking your phone back into your pants pocket, you take a few seconds to scan the area again, wondering if her brother is in the building or still outside. With little to no information as to whether they are enhanced in any way, you decide to play it safe and use this chance to find out more about her, and her brother, under the guise of getting to know her better. 

In one hand you carry the drinks in the cup-holder and the other holds the croissant on a paper plate as you make your way around and through the cafe tables and chairs to where she waits. After you make a show of cutting the croissant in half and having her choose her portion, you pull out your phone and lay it on the table, face down. She stirs the coffee once she removes the lid, her slender fingers elegant with their show of many strange and unusual rings flashing up and down their length. With a secretive smile, she sips at the hot liquid, watching you over the rim of her cup.

“You can call me Wanda, you know,” she states, her face solemn and her tone light. “We don’t have to stick to protocol and tradition if you’re not comfortable.”

“Don’t you mean if it helps me trust you?” Your quip comes unbidden as you set down your own cup. “First name basis and shared food is supposed to help people become friends easier.” 

“True enough,” she shrugs, “but in your case, it’s going to take more than that. Trust is a fragile bridge, delicate and easily broken, I think. Maybe we can just talk today and work on your main problem another time.”

Again you get the feeling that she is being super friendly and understanding, to the point that it almost seems like you are the one that is being ridiculous and overly paranoid. That's when you recall something that Natasha had mentioned, only once or twice during training, but enough that it had stuck in the back of your mind and is here now, being drawn out. The itch you are feeling could very well be due to the possibility that this woman here with you is some kind of mentalist. You don’t have proof, only your gut, still it has kept you alive this long. 

Something else that has kept you alive is your ability, and you have learned to use it many different ways and developed some unexpected talents with it. One in particular comes to mind. Picking up your cup and downing more coffee, you grin and lean forward. 

“I’m glad you suggested that, Wanda. There is actually something I would love to have a professional opinion about. Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

Wanda’s smile grows bigger, her posture relaxing. “Oh? Well, I’d be glad to give you as much help as I can, Ms. [Y/L/N]. What seems to be the problem?”

Your confidence level high, you modulate your voice, starting at the normal vibrations that most people respond to. “Please, call me [Y/N]. And it really isn’t that big of a deal. Not work related or anything.”

She shakes her head a little, like something is bothering her around her ears. “No, please, it doesn’t matter if it’s work or personal, [Y/N]. It’s all related to your well-being.”

Changing your modulation and adjusting your tone, you nod in agreement and fill your mind with images of Tony and Stephen, starting with that hug where you’d been kissing Stephen and Tony had been hugging you both. You follow that with when you’d been kissing Tony and then when you had been hugging just Stephen. These various images and others, strictly from your imagination based off your own desires, keep your mind full as you tip your head at her. She seems suddenly more fidgety as you smirk at her.

“So, there are these two guys…”


	18. Down - Chorus 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Chorus 2  
> Are you... down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?
> 
> Are you down, are you down, are you d-d-d-d-down, are you   
> Down, are you down, are you d-d-down, are you?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, down, d-d-d-down?

Previously in Down - Verse 3 - Part 4  
 _Before you can do more than open your mouth enough to draw a breath, {Miles} is stepping back and grabbing a water bottle from the pack on his back. He takes a couple of swallows, then puts it away and steps closer again._

_“Well, [Y/N],” his voice is low and soft when he speaks, licking his lips nervously, “I need to get going. How ‘bout a kiss goodbye?”_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Previously in Down - Verse 4 - Part 3  
 _This time around it’s Stephen’s arms that end up around Tony’s waist, with Tony throwing his arms around shoulders just a bit taller than his, but enough to have him stretching up to hold on. The kiss is gentle and slow, Tony seeking permission with his tongue, carefully advancing as Stephen relaxes into the moment. Their hands twist into each other’s shirts, feet shuffling to find the balance between them as they explore this newly discovered territory. Nuzzling into Stephen’s mouth, his hands moving up to tangle in soft brown hair, Tony moans, remembering how this had looked with you and Stephen._

……..

_“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Stephen murmurs, dropping his gaze as his cheeks gain a dusting of pink._

_“Yeah,” Tony can’t help but chuckle as he bites his lip and smiles, “I know.”_

===================================

Tony would like to stay there on the rooftop and explore the texture of Stephen’s hair as he buries his fingers in it while kissing him breathless. He would love to back Stephen up against the rough stone wall that surrounds the elevator and run his hands up and down the lean form beneath his conservative blue Oxford shirt. Also, he would really love to see Stephen’s eyes go so wide the blue becomes hidden as he dives into those denim jeans and strokes the flesh there unto bursting. In fact, he could probably come up with at least five more things that he would really love to do to Stephen on their way down to the bedroom, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he smiles into those blue eyes, now grown warm with newly awakened desire, and pushes gently on that lean form, indicating his need to step back. Stephen chuckles softly, ducks his head, blushes a little more, then releases his hold around Tony’s waist. This is good. 

It’s good because it isn’t a frown or a pout, which means that the need to go slowly with this is a mutual agreement. If it was a frown, that would indicate confusion or maybe even a perceived rejection, and while Tony doubts that Stephen has the experience to pull off a pout, sometimes things like that come natural. He’s really glad of that right now, as he is fairly sure he wouldn’t have the strength to resist such an expression. Not when it would justify what he really wants. 

“I suppose we should clean up and get things ready for dinner, then,” Stephen sighs, snapping his fingers and bopping his hands together. 

He is still smiling into Tony’s eyes, which makes it hard for Tony to do more than nod his head in agreement. That is why he had stepped back, he has to remind himself. To prepare for [Y/N]’s dinner and hopefully her acceptance of their offer. 

“Indeed we should,” Tony replies, with more jocularity than he really feels, but it provides enough impetus for them to return to the picnic area and clean up the remains of lunch. 

He catches himself watching Stephen differently than he used to while they busy themselves with the dishes and leftover food. He also catches Stephen watching him, as well. Grinning, he deliberately starts pushing things out of reach and knocking things over in Stephen’s direction. 

Laughing and tossing a bit of wine from the last wine glass in Tony's direction, retaliation for a wet piece of fruit tossed down his shirt, Stephen finds himself the focus of one of those charming grins Tony gives anyone he is pleased with. The butterflies that have always erupted in his stomach when he receives one of those grins have grown and mutated. They are no longer flutters of excitement and suppressed desire, no longer a delicate jubilation of hopes and possibilities. Instead, they have become points of heat, heading from his stomach out into other areas of his body, like blackbirds in a pie, waiting for someone to release them. 

A knot in his throat has him swallowing against the sudden burst of emotion. He realizes he has been staring at Tony far longer than he intended when Tony starts around the table toward him. His hands full, he is at a loss for any defensive maneuver when he is taken into an embrace, Tony’s hands separating, one around his waist and the other sliding up his chest to plunge once again into his hair, tugging his head down for another kiss. The only real response is to wrap his arms around Tony and return the kiss, angling his head until they are able to find the perfect point of maximum sensation. Groaning as he feels his knees weaken, he squeezes harder around Tony’s shoulders, demanding that the kiss intensify.

Tony’s hand on his waist slips lower, grabbing him and pulling him in tight, tight enough that Stephen can feel how aroused they both are. The intimate contact sends shivers induced by the heat of their contact shooting all over his body. Goosebumps raise up on his forearms and chase themselves down his back. His grip on the containers in his hands tighten as well, making the plastic squeak under the pressure. 

Stephen’s groan has Tony hard in an instant. He braces them both as Stephen’s knees buckle and the thought that he has that effect on this man only increases his own desire. Sliding his hand down, he grabs Stephen’s firm butt beneath the denim jeans and pulls him in close, wanting to feel how aroused he is. The contact of their hard flesh has his own cock quivering and he can feel them both pulsing as he kisses even harder. 

The kiss reaches a climax and they relax, easing their hold on each other at the same time. Taking a deep breath, Tony blinks slowly and looks up into Stephen’s eyes, almost green now in the shadows, but filled with heat like he’s never seen before. He notices the crinkles at the corners just as Stephen chuckles and smiles.

“I thought we were going inside.”

“You need to stop looking at me like that for that to happen,” Tony gives a sly smile, his gaze roaming over Stephen’s features now that he is up close. 

“Well, I might have a bit more trouble walking now, but I do think we should head inside instead of giving our neighbors any more displays like that.” Stephen eases back, stepping away from Tony as he carefully disentangles his arms from around the other man. 

Reluctant to stop touching him, Tony slides his hands along hip and shoulder until they are parted. 

“Fine, I have to say you’re right.” He groans playfully, turning back to grab the stuff he’d left on the table. Behind him, Stephen laughs.

“And when I’m right…”

Turning his head to look at his friend, Tony shakes it and chortles. “You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” At Stephen’s nod, he rolls his eyes. “Really? Ugh, fine. You’re right. And when you’re right, you’re right. There, happy?”

Stephen grins and waits for Tony to lead the way. They head off to the corner opposite the one with the elevator, aiming for the crosswalk over to their apartment building. His nod is not lost on Tony, neither is the grin. Tony has to agree. Right now, he is very happy.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Your head hurts and your mouth is dry, even after your fourth cup of coffee. Sitting across from Dr. Maximoff, you are almost completely positive that you have either managed to keep her from getting into your thoughts, or that she’s given you a splitting headache in revenge for having to listen to you blabber about your messed up love life for the last hour. You have never talked so much, and for so long, about so little in your entire life. Except maybe back when you were six and talked the ear off of the mall santa claus about which My Little Pony character was your favorite. 

A beeping alarm sounds from Dr Maximoff’s phone as you ended the last sentence of your droning diatribe with, “...and then he kissed me! After all the trouble he caused! Can you believe that?”

Wanda shakes her head as though she is coming out of daze, similar to what a student would do at the sound of a bell interrupting the boring lecture of a college professor. Looking around, closing her mouth and licking her lips, she sees only you. A confused look on her face, she shakes her head again and turns off the alarm. She starts to say something and is interrupted by a yawn, followed by a body-contorting stretch.

“I’m sorry, that was not very professional of me. I guess I’m used to sitting on a comfy couch, not these silly cafe chairs.” She smiles prettily at you before glancing away, a look of concern shadowing her eyes. “It seems your time is over for today. I hope you feel better about trusting me?”

You smile and ignore the hand that she has stretched out toward you, still not willing to let her touch you. It might be taking things a little far, but you still aren’t sure how she might be able to influence you if she can touch you or if you drop your guard. It’s definitely a relief, and some interesting data, to find out that she is susceptible to your mesmerizing tone of voice. That being the case, you find yourself in agreement with her.

“I do. Thank you for accommodating me today, Doctor. It goes a long way in establishing our relationship.” You were going to say something else, but the faint sound of air blowing through the open door comes to you from across the building foyer. A familiar smell of cologne hits your nose just before the squeak of a sneaker on the polished tile reaches your ear, giving you cause to look up and around. 

From your left, the young man you first met outside the building is approaching your table, a concerned look on his face. It strikes you as odd that the sound of his shoes is what warned you of his approach, when earlier they hadn’t made a noise. Maybe they are the type to squeak on a stone tile floor, you tell yourself, looking at them as he comes toward the table. They aren’t the same. You have to look again, look away and look a third time before the sense of it gets through the pain in your skull. His shoes are not the same as the ones he’d been wearing when you met him before. Your mouth is partly open to speak, but you are beaten to the punch.

“[Y/N], this is my brother, Pietro. Pietro, this is Ms [Y/L/N]. She’s my first patient here today.”

You raise your hand in greeting, and nod at him. “Nice to meet you, for real this time.” 

He smiles. “Glad I can get your name without sounding like a creep. So, you’re the lucky number one for my sister, eh? Good. She is one of the best head doctors in the world, you know.”

Giving him a grin, you are happy at how sincere he sounds, praising his sister that way. You draw in breath to comment on the fact that she’s admitted to you being her first patient, but instead you are overtaken by a coughing fit. Rough, phlegm-filled coughs that shake you and rattle in your lungs. Not a good sign for someone that just has recovered from major surgery in that area, you think. Pietro is around to your side in seconds flat, patting you on the back and holding your shoulder to keep you steady as you work through the attack. 

Wanda is watching you, worry etching her brow again when you recover enough to look up and straighten yourself in your seat. You realize you’ve dropped your mantra of naked men dancing through your brain and glare at her, your brows drawing together. She gives you an anxious smile in return. 

“Pietro, go get [Y/N] some water, please. We can’t have her passing out on my first day, now, can we?”

Pietro laugh softly and jogs off, leaving you two alone again. You are tempted to start monologuing again but Wanda holds up her hand. 

“I do have other appointments, so I will take my leave of you for now. Please, call up to the office for your next appointment.” She stands and takes a step back from the table. 

You rise as well, nodding in acknowledgement of her request as Pietro returns with two bottles of water. He hands one to you and opens the other, gulping it down in several quick swallows. Following suit, you sigh at the coolness running down your parched throat, easing the tightness there. He finishes before you and smiles as his sister walks over to his other side.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, [Y/N]. Not many people can talk my sister’s ear off for an hour.” He salutes you with the empty bottle and gives you a wink. “Hopefully, I will see you when you come again for your next session.”

Your smile is genuine as you return his salute. “Maybe so.”

Watching them leave, you feel another wave of dizziness coming on so return to your spot at the table. After a few minutes it passes, leaving you nauseous. You make your way to the restroom, hoping you don't do anything embarrassing, like vomit or fall over, before you get to the stalls. Once there, the only thing you really had to do is relieve your bladder. Four cups of coffee, after all.

The headache seems to intensify after you get done washing your hands, and your thirst has returned. More coffee is out of the question. Not because it would keep you awake, but because it won’t slake your thirst. You decide to head over to the hospital to get ibuprofen and some Gatorade, or whatever they carry in the pharmacy there. 

On your way over, you remember that Bruce is monitoring your phone. You pluck it from your back pocket and activate it, then dial his number, hoping he hasn’t forgotten you and turned it off. He answers on the third ring.

“Hey, you made it! I’m just pulling the data now. It’s gonna take a little while before it’s done, so don’t turn your phone off, okay? How did it go?”

His rambling chatter is a relief after what you’ve been through today. The way he treats you, like a little sister or a favorite niece, always gives you a sense of family. Smiling despite the pain stabbing you in the top of your head, you try to give him some of the data for the monitoring file. 

“Yeah, I made it. I don’t plan on turning off my phone, but I’ll need to plug it in soon if this data upload drains my battery.” You take a quick peek at your battery sign, then sigh. “I’m at 43%, so I’ll find a plug...oh damn it!”

“What? Are you alright?” His concern is palpable.

“I left my purse in Stephen’s car. My plug’s in there. Damn and damn. Ugh, I’ll have to buy another.” The thought and regret make your head throb. You hadn’t wanted to think about anything until you had painkillers working in your system, but here it is, right in your face. 

“Why can’t you just go get your purse?” Bruce’s confusion is mingled with that tone that men get when they just can’t decipher what they’ve heard, for whatever reason, and think you’re making too big a deal over it. 

“It’s not as simple as that,” you groan and sigh, not feeling up to trying to explain this to him right now. Still, you did need to give him a reason for it. “I’m over at the hospital still and we’re supposed to meet for dinner in a little while. I don’t want to bother them -”

“Stark didn’t say anything stupid to you, did he? Didn’t piss you off or anything?” The tone in Bruce’s voice is odd, almost like he’s worried or afraid of what Tony might have said.

“No...why?”

“Just making sure. I know you and he have gotten close over the past few weeks, and I would hate to see you get hurt. Y’know, cuz we’re friends and all.”

You shake your head, endlessly amused at how unprepossessing Bruce can be, while being one of the most brilliant people you’ve ever met. “Yes, we are and I appreciate your concern. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he chuckles, nervous energy coming through the line with his tone. “So how are you going to pay for a new charger if you don’t have your purse?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I have my phone, and Google Pay is the best thing since sliced bread. No worries, I got this. Gonna get some ibuprofen and Gatorade while I’m at the pharmacy as well. I’ve got a killer headache, though I don’t know if it’s from that new psych doctor trying to pick my brain, or me attempting to keep my thoughts on non-sensitive information.”

Bruce laughs, full and hearty, at this diatribe. “What did you talk to her for an hour about if you didn’t discuss your memory loss?”

“Ah, well, you’ll just have to listen to the data if you really want to know. I’m not about to tell you personal information like that. I mean, we’re friends,” you let out a chortle as you think about what he would hear if he did go listen, “but I don’t know if you’re ready for that part of my life just yet.”

“Oh, ah well, ah, I might just get Natasha to give me a hand with that part then, if you think it might be too sensitive.” 

A sudden high-pitched ringing in your ears makes it hard for you to tell if he is embarrassed or slighted. You shake your head, gently, and poke at your ears a bit. When it doesn’t let up, you ask Bruce about it. 

“Are you sending anything to my phone? I’ve got a high-pitched whine in my ears at the moment.” 

“Oh? That’s odd. It’s never bothered you before.” Bruce mutters and you hear clicks and the sound of a dial spinning. “Is that better?” 

Opening your mouth and then swallowing finally eases the noise down to a level that you aren’t bothered by it anymore, though it might have been Bruce’s fiddling that helped as well. 

“Yeah, it’s better now. Hey, while I’m thinking about it, that voice modulation experiment that you had open on your tablet earlier today? It worked. Or at least I am pretty sure it did.”

“What? You read that? What do you mean ‘it worked’? Did you try it on Dr Maximoff? How did she react?” His questions are coming at you a mile a minute, making you laugh in self-defense. 

“Now, now, Dr Banner, you know I can’t be discussing sensitive material out in public, on an unsecured line. You’ll just have to wait until I get back to get all the juicy details.”

“That is patently unfair of you. How dare you bring that up and then leave me hanging?” He laughs with you for a minute before growing serious again. “Well, I’m glad it helped and I hope she didn’t get anything from you. I’ll let Fury know to put a tail on her -”

“And her brother,” you interject, “he’s here too. Something odd about him as well.” 

You were going to tell Bruce about the shoes when another coughing fit overcomes you. It’s bad enough this time that you have to find a place to sit and recover, or risk falling over. You can hear Bruce’s voice but can’t answer for several minutes, as your throat is clogged with phlegm and it feels like your nose has started running as well. Hacking and clearing your throat finally seems to help, until you start sneezing.

“[Y/N]! Hello! [Y/N]? Are you still there? You okay?” Bruce’s voice finally makes it through the ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head that’s gotten worse after the coughing bout. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m still here, though worse for wear at the moment.” Your voice is hoarse and it hurts to swallow, but you make yourself joke about it, not wanting him to order you back to the skyship.

“You sound terrible. You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should come back here and let me take a look at you?”

“I’m fine. I think I’ve just caught a cold or something. I’ll have Tony give me a once over when I see him later.” In your head you repeat over and over ‘Don’t make me come back.’ Right now, the only thing you are looking forward to is Tony holding you...and Stephen.

“Okay.” Bruce doesn’t sound convinced and you can’t really blame him. When you left this morning, you weren’t sounding like you smoked two packs a day or had suffered an allergy attack, but now you are giving the impression that you just might be a coal-miner or something. 

“Look, I think it’s just that I’m having a reaction to allergens around here. I’m only a block from the park. I’m certain it’s because I haven’t been outside in normal air and pollution for weeks. Don’t worry. I’ll grab some Benadryl along with the other stuff. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but stay inside. I don’t need you coming down with the flu. Don’t go near that ER, hear me. Never know what people might bring in. And wash your hands!”

“Yes, Father Bruce,” you mutter, your voice croaking with every word. 

“And call me if you need anything, prescription or otherwise. I mean it. Promise?” 

You can’t help but be moved by his concern, to the point that you have to wipe your eyes to keep them from stinging with tears. “Yes, I promise. I’ll call as soon as I can and let you know if I’ll be back tonight or in the morning.”

“In the morning? Why…? Oh, oh, okay. Don’t overexert yourself!” His order is adamant and shows even more how much he is concerned over your well-being, but you have to draw the line somewhere. 

“No worries, Dr Dad, I’ll let Tony do the heavy-lifting.” The thought occurs to you that he might object more if he knew about Stephen as well.

“No, no I didn’t need that in my mind. I’m hanging up now. Bye.” 

With that, he disconnects the line, leaving only the faint signal of data being transferred skyward. A laugh escapes you and makes your head throb again. Trying not to shake it or let your footsteps jar it too much, you head into the hospital, looking for the pharmacy and some relief.


	19. Down - Chorus 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Avengers AU; FLUFF; smut; sex; nsfw; 18+; angst; fluff; smart sex - geniuses here  
> Dimension #6969  
>  **Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT WARNING. Graphic sexual depictions (m/m anal intercourse, fingering, protected sex)**
> 
>  **Down - Chorus 3**  
>  Are you, are you, are you d-d-down, down?  
> Are you, are you... down...are you?
> 
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?

Previously in Down - Chorus 2: ...Stephen chuckles and smiles. “I thought we were going inside.”

“You need to stop looking at me like that for that to happen,” Tony gives a sly smile, his gaze roaming over Stephen’s features now that he is up close.  
……….  
Stephen grins and waits for Tony to lead the way. They head off to the corner opposite the one with the elevator, aiming for the crosswalk over to their apartment building. His nod is not lost on Tony, neither is the grin. Tony has to agree. Right now, he is very happy.  
========================================================  
Tony enjoys walking behind Stephen as they head home, crossing the footbridge that connects the parking garage with their building, then taking the private entrance from the roof down through Tony’s Iron Man lab into their apartment. He lets his eyes roam over the lean form in front of him, watching the easy way Stephen moves.

He finds himself wondering why he’s never truly noticed it until recently, how Stephen feels about him and in return how that makes him feel about Stephen. The only reason he can come up with is that he has always regarded Stephen as more than a friend, more like his other half, a twin or part of himself, almost from the day they met back in college as a couple of genius teenagers lost in the middle of a sea of sceptic adults. A desire to apologize for being so blind all these years becomes suddenly urgent, to the point of embarrassment. 

Slowing his pace as they reach the kitchen, Tony gets to the sink situated in the middle of the large island counter that dominates the area and stops there to empty his hands of the dishes he’s carried down. Stephen, having reached it first and set his load on the counter, has headed to the main bathroom off to the side of the kitchen area, leaving Tony there to contemplate his next move. Tony is hesitant to do much right now, feeling uncertain for the first time in a very long time, both because they are expecting [Y/N] in a few hours for dinner, and because of his newly awakened comprehension that he is the one that has been caught unaware, a situation usually reversed for him. 

Lost in thought, he hears Stephen’s footsteps as he comes into the kitchen, but doesn’t think anything of it, even as his friend approaches him. Having been roommates with him for so very long, Tony doesn’t count it as entering his personal space when Stephen gets close. Their bubbles had overlapped many years ago, so much they are beyond that point. There’s never been more than just comfort in their closeness though, a desire for physical contact, so it’s rather surprising when Stephen’s hands slide around his waist, arms pulling him close, chin on his shoulder and breathe in his ear, exciting his senses from head to toe and all points in between. Stephen stepping up and hugging Tony, bringing him in close and pressing his own lean body against him completes the immersion. 

A sound halfway between a moan and a sigh escapes Tony’s throat as he leans his head, his whole body in fact, back against Stephen. He begins to relax, immensely pleased that Stephen is being true to character in his passion and determination, going after whatever it is that he has decided he wants. It’s a relief to Tony, easing the uncertainty, which allows him to think beyond his regret to the next step. A step that becomes an unneeded choice when Stephen begins kissing his neck, starting at the joining of his shoulder and quickly heading up to his ear. 

Tony shivers, letting a throaty chuckle out from between his lips, his hands grasping the back of Stephen’s wrists lightly, caressing his hands with his fingertips. Closing his eyes, he leans more into the kisses, arching his neck to allow Stephen full access. Stephen nips the sensitive skin over his spine and Tony’s next laugh turns into a moan.

“Guess that answers that question,” he murmurs under his breath. Stephen’s ear, being right there, catches the soft comment. 

“Of?” Stephen inquires, his hands beginning to roam, tugging on Tony’s shirt until it is free from his pants.

“What we’re going to do to pass the time until dinner.” Tony’s reply is breathless at the touch of Stephen’s fingers on his belly, the tips tracing whorls on his skin. 

“That was a question?” The laugh at the end of Stephen’s question is also breathless, his fingertips sliding along the edge of Tony’s pants. 

“Only in my mind, it would seem,” Tony mutters, a faint tone of dismay hidden in his facetious retort. 

Stephen pauses in his kissing of the entirety of Tony’s neck, his chin coming back to rest on Tony’s shoulder as he slips his hands and arms around Tony’s waist, up under his shirt, palms flat on the edge of his ribs, snugging the shorter man up against himself. Tony can feel how aroused Stephen is, the hard length of his cock hot against his backside. He wonders if he has said the wrong thing aloud. Not that it would be the first time, but this is not one of those times that he wouldn’t care. He cares more than he had admitted, until now.

“Are you okay with this?” Stephen’s voice is low and soft, barely a murmur in his ear. “I don’t want to assume -”

“Yes! Gods, yes!” Tony exclaims quickly, before Stephen has a chance to back away or change his mind. “I just regret -”

“Don’t!” It’s Stephen’s turn to interrupt, his harsh whisper followed by a kiss and a nibble on Tony’s ear. 

“It’s not your fault.” This comes as a softer whisper, Stephen’s breathe tickling Tony’s ear, the skin sensitized from his attention to it.

With a groan, Tony tries to turn in Stephen’s embrace, wanting to face him, kiss him, touch him more than just on the arms and hands. Stephen laughs, keeping him caught, pushing him up against the island counter, straddling his legs and bumping his hips and cock against Tony’s ass. Leaning on the counter, Tony is glad of the support, his knees going weak at this show of dominance. Usually he is the one taking the lead, though he has always been willing to let others. It’s a rare enough occasion though, as most of his partners tended to assume that his extrovert nature was the same as taking charge. 

After a few minutes of Stephen’s hands exploring his sides, fingertips finding and tracing the outlines of his ribs, hips twitching against his, mouth and nose nuzzling the back of Tony’s neck, Stephen eases back, pulling Tony with him to make a small space between them and the counter. Tony is enjoying the sensation of being putty in the surgeon’s hands too much to resist or try to turn around again. He’s rewarded when those talented fingers make short work of the fastenings on his pants, loosening them so they hang on his hips, staying up only because they are held at the back between the two of them.

Reaching up behind him, Tony finds the back of Stephen’s head and plunges his fingers into the short curls there, caressing and kneading his scalp at the base of his skull. Stephen moans against Tony’s ear, giving it another nip as his hands diverge along Tony’s torso, one going high and the other low. Tony runs his right hand along Stephen’s arm, encouraging exploration as those wonderful fingers of his slip down the tender skin of his hip and into the unknown. Bringing his left arm up, Stephen braces Tony across his chest, fingers there finding Tony’s right nipple to start caressing it with fingerpad and nail for alternating sensations. 

Stephen’s fingers are cool at first, slipping down his hip and briefly caressing Tony’s inner thigh before angling over, hesitating for a brief instance. Tony gasps, needing more oxygen as he anticipates what is coming next. He isn’t disappointed as Stephen curls his fingers, sliding them up and around Tony’s scrotum. Behind him, Tony can feel the deep breaths Stephen is taking, his face up against the back of Tony’s neck, tucked into the crook there at his shoulder. Waiting for Stephen to gather himself and enjoying the sensation of having such an overwhelming effect on the man he knows is usually so unshakeable, Tony takes a couple of deep breaths himself, eyes closed to concentrate better. 

The gentle tug and pull of Stephen’s fingers on the loose skin of his balls has Tony releasing the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding out in a long, satisfied sighing groan. He pushes back a little harder, grinding back against the heated length of cock pressing against his ass, a picture of how it would feel emerging in his mind. Tony’s own hard member is rubbing against the cloth of his boxer briefs, still restrained by his pants but eager to be released. Those talented fingers are squeezing and rubbing on his balls, making the whole area down there ache for attention. 

Tony decides to push a little, knowing they don’t have all day for this exploration. Dropping his arm from Stephen’s neck, he turns in that direction, wanting to face his torturer. Stephen is in step with him, unzipping Tony’s pants the rest of the way and pushing them down off his hips to fall to the floor as he helps Tony spin around. Lifting his arm again, Tony drapes it over Stephen’s shoulders, intending to pull him close for another kiss. Instead he finds himself being lifted up and pushed back, the counter behind him encouraging him to grab on and push up with his free hand. Stephen’s hands splay out over Tony’s waist, holding him close as he sets him up on the counter. It’s a natural motion to open his legs and let Stephen move into that space. 

His legs go around Stephen's waist easily, resting there as though made to fit. Tony uses the arm he has around Stephen's neck to bring him close within the crook of his elbow and capture those lips of his. The kiss is even more heart-melting and mind-blowing than the first one. The hard length of his cock presses against Stephen’s stomach, throbbing as their bodies come together, straining and pressing together in a bid to feel as much of the other as possible. They kiss and break apart, then kiss more, taking quick gasps of breath before returning to taste more, touch more, inciting more heat with every movement of their tongues and lips. Their hands are in each other’s hair and on their necks, stroking down shoulders and over chests, fingers finding spots to excite the other more. 

When the first burst of frenzied lust is mostly sated, they end up with Tony’s arms holding onto Stephen’s neck and Stephen’s hands on Tony’s ass, both striving for the closest they can get to keep in contact. Slowly they come down from their shared contact high, the hard kisses and urgent tugging turning into more exploratory nuzzles and caresses. Minutes go by until they wind down enough to simply hold each other, fitting head and hands and bodies together to maintain contact until they recover energy for the next round. 

Breaking the silence, Stephen chuckles and pulls his head back to peer at Tony. “While I have you in such a vulnerable position, there’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask you for some time now.”

Tony kisses up the column of Stephen’s neck, laughing softly. “You have questions right now?” His lips twitching in a smirk, he smiles up at the surgeon through half-closed eyes. “How can you even think straight right now?”

Stephen’s look is enigmatic, though his blue eyes are dark with desire and his mouth hangs open slightly, enhancing the hungry grin he is giving Tony. “I always have question running through my head. I can’t just freewheel it and enjoy the ride.” 

‘Like you do’ is left unspoken, except in Tony’s head. They’d had that discussion plenty of times before. He gives the flesh near Stephen’s mouth a tender nibble before he looks back up into his gaze. Giving his characteristic one-shouldered shrug, he nods his head. “Sure, ask me anything. Especially if it means you’ll go back to doing what you were earlier.”

Cheeks going red, Stephen ducks his head and gives Tony a crooked smile. His gaze slides down from Tony’s, as though he is searching for something, then back up to pierce him directly. 

“How long have you known that [Y/N] is an Enhanced?” 

Taken aback, Tony blinks a couple of times, adjusting his expectations to encompass this line of inquiry. He’d thought Stephen would be asking him about having sex, especially what they would do once [Y/N] was involved, but not this. Pinned in the blue beam of Stephen’s gaze, he bids for a reprieve, not so he can lie, but so he can figure out how to frame the truth. Truth is essential, and with Stephen knowing the intimate details surrounding his Iron Man identity, he isn’t really sure why he feels the need to equivocate. Too long in the secrets game, is what he blames.

“I’ll answer that, and in return, you can tell me how you broke my code -”

“Seriously, Tony?” Stephen’s gaze is interrupted by him laughing, tossing his head back as his eyes crinkle, hiding themselves as he lets out a hearty guffaw. “Killswitch Engage, the date of our graduation from MIT, and your mother’s birthday, spelled in reverse and alternating numbers and letters. It was a lot easier than I expected, but then you’ve used that combination before, remember.”

Floored at this revelation, Tony can only stare, open-mouthed, arms going slack to let his hands slip down to Stephen’s chest. This proof, the fact that Stephen knows him so well, well enough to recall a code protocol he’d come up with nearly fifteen years ago, shakes him to the core. He’d always felt that he was alone, for the most part, despite the fact that Stephen has been alongside him all this time. It has him astonished and ashamed that he has been so blind to this, and for so long. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Tony. Tony. Anthony, what’s wrong? Don’t cry.” 

Stephen’s voice reaches into his soul, bringing Tony back from where he’d fallen, deep within himself. Tender kisses and caresses by long, sensitive fingers follow the words, awakening him back to reality. The look of concern etching Stephen’s face as he applies his soft affection to Tony’s face has Tony nearly in tears for real, more than just the few he’s shed. He reaches up, gently pushing Stephen’s hands aside, to take his face between his hands and kiss him, passionately and tenderly, wanting to show him in actions what he can’t yet express in words. 

Encircling him, Stephen’s arms pull Tony close once again, their desire reigniting with renewed fervor. Tony’s tender passion is met equally by Stephen, hands spread across Tony’s back as he hungrily nuzzles and kisses him, nipping and sucking at Tony’s lips until Tony is moaning into his mouth, his own hands up and tangled in Stephen’s hair again. Coming up for air, Tony gasps and leans forward, his back spasming from the awkward position of leaning back with only Stephen’s arms to support him. Peppering Stephen’s face with light kisses, he slides his arms down to rest along the strong ones wrapped around and lays his head on his nearer shoulder.

“How about we take this to the bedroom?” His lips brush against the spot just below Stephen’s ear, vibrating the soft skin there along his jaw. 

Stephen’s hands run down Tony’s sides one more time, ending up on his thighs, thumbs curving inward to brush against the firmness of Tony’s quivering member and eliciting a gasp of breath suddenly taken in. His head comes up from where he’s been kissing and nibbling along Tony’s throat, tilting just enough to find and lock Tony’s gaze with his, his expression rapt with passion.

“Sure,” The agreement comes out rough with desire, “if you think you can make it there before I catch you.”

The challenge and lust in Stephen’s eyes gives Tony an intimate idea of what prey might feel like, though his own competitive nature asserts itself quick enough that it doesn’t last long. Placing his hands on Stephen’s chest, he grins and glances over his shoulder into the living area, calculating angles and surfaces to determine the best route. Fortunately, the space is wide open, with couches and tables spread apart enough to fill it without sacrificing comfort. 

From the kitchen island counter that dominates the area, there’s several feet of open space past the dining table and chairs until the narrow table with the Jenga game and the back of that couch bisects it, perpendicular to the large formal dinner table. The walkway to the right of that couch’s end goes past the table until it meets the window where he’d slammed his knuckles, then angles left, interrupted only by the grand piano until it reaches his bedroom door. Another couch, this one lengthwise to the window, is the only other obstacle on that side of the room. If they were headed toward Stephen's room, there were other chairs and tables in the way, but Tony’s intent is his kingsize bed and the room it provides for whatever they might get into.

Turning back to face his lover and friend, Tony knows he’s not about to play fair. Stephen’s legs are longer than his and the man is standing, with his pants on. Before Stephen can say anything more, Tony tips his head up to kiss him again, using his position to suck Stephen’s lower lip in and give it the once over with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands dart down taut stomach muscles to the top of Stephen’s pants, making quick work of the button and zipper there. He lets the pants fall and releases his hold on Stephen’s lip at the same time, then quickly lays back, pushing off Stephen’s arms, and brings his legs up over his head. This has the effect of somersaulting him backwards off the island counter and onto the floor between the kitchen and the first couch.

Stephen’s groan, whether of passion or injured pride, is music to Tony’s ears as he spins around, his socks sliding a bit on the polished wood floor, losing him precious seconds. He makes the first couch and vaults over, hearing behind him the slap of Stephen’s hands on the counter, followed by sliding flesh and the sound of feet hitting the floor. Risking a look behind him as he bounces from the cushions onto the floor in front of the second couch, Tony can see that his roommate has vaulted the island counter and is heading for the gap between the couches and the dining table. Tony changes his route slightly, stepping up onto the end of the couch and pushing off the arm toward the bedroom door, still several meters away. 

Thankful that the bedroom door opens inward, Tony hits the the floor, doing a tuck-and-roll back to his feet, and reaches it as Stephen vaults the grand piano, sliding over the closed top much as he had the counter. Within a few seconds, as Tony is going through the door and heading for the bed, Stephen tackles him and they fly the remaining few meters to land together in a tangle of arms and legs on the mattress, their bodies rolling over to come to a rest with Tony on top.

Panting and laughing and gasping for breath, they lay there a moment until Tony straightens his legs down the length of Stephen’s body, spreading his legs open over knees braced on the floor at the end of the bed. Their hips press together, bringing their cocks into contact with each other once again, this time with no pants in the way. Immediately Tony feels himself stir and start to harden. He groans as does Stephen, hips twitching and grinding almost of their own volition. Looking down as Stephen raises his arms, Tony can’t help but reach out and pin him there at the wrists. Gazing down at him for a few brief seconds, he feels that emotion from earlier welling up inside and he ducks down to kiss the man beneath him, giving him everything at that moment through their contact. 

Raising his hips up, Stephen grinds against Tony, excited by the intimacy of their contact. The kisses that Tony has been giving him help as well, though he is certain his friend is feeling something more than just lust from the expression of their desires. The tears earlier and the tenderness now, even after their little competition, indicate that this is more than just sex for him, a diagnoses that Stephen is more than pleased to make. He’d been considering putting feelers out to test these waters for some time, especially since Tony had brought him into close contact with [Y/N]. Tony’s obsession with her had been the main factor that kept Stephen from approaching him before now. 

He sits up as the kiss comes to an end, easing Tony back a bit onto his thighs. Taking his face between his hands, Stephen gazes into those beautiful, shining, whiskey brown eyes and wonders how he got so lucky. The only thing holding him back is his inexperience with this level of intimacy, something he’s hoping Tony will be willing to take the lead in. So far, he’s been the aggressor, mostly because he knew, has known, that Tony was reluctant when it came to moving out of his comfort zone. [Y/N] is the perfect example for that. Tony’s known her for nearly 4 years and has only recently, because of her being accidentally blown up, gotten closer. If it had been left up to Tony, he probably would have pined after her for another 3 years or more. 

“For my next trick, I’m going to need the help of my lovely assistance here.” Tony grins, returning the caresses Stephen’s been giving him. 

“Instruct me, “ murmurs Stephen, releasing Tony’s face to lean back on his arms and bumping his hips up against Tony’s.

“Ah, levitation, then. Watch as I float above the bed without the use of wires,” Tony chortles. “Although I was thinking more along the lines of snake charming.”

Stephen loses his breath in a rush as Tony reaches down to push the cloth of their briefs out of the way, exposing them. He draws the breath back in, ragged and slow, as Tony’s hand caresses their cocks, encircling them both at the same time, the tip of his thumb and his fingers drawing lines of heat from the base to the tip. His hips twitch and buck again as those talented fingers swipe around the sensitized tip, using the slickness found there as lube to aid in the rubbing that elicits such delicious sensations from his engorged flesh.

Opening his eyes to see Tony giving him a smile that hovers somewhere between lascivious and tender, Stephen is inspired to lean back on one elbow and return the favor. With his right hand, he reaches between them to entangle his fingers with Tony’s around both of their firm lengths. The double sensation of their hands and the super soft skin of Tony’s cock on his has Stephen moaning and grinding again. His eyes close and his head falls back as Tony takes over the rhythm for a few strokes, their hips moving in unison. Tony pausing brings Stephen’s eyes back open in time to see lips descending on his as Tony stretches out along him once more, wrapping himself around Stephen as they kiss. 

This makeout session is lengthier, more exploratory as they both take advantage of their positions and the bed to finishing undressing, letting fingers and mouths wander where they choose, until they are out of breath and aroused to the point where they are having a difficult time with coherency. Stephen stares up at Tony straddling his waist, ass pressed back against his cock, which has been teased so he is near orgasm, though he wants it to be more than a hand job that gets him off. Buried deep between Tony’s legs is the image in his mind at the moment. He hesitates, unsure of how to get there from here.

“We need lube,” Tony growls as he pushes back against Stephen’s hip thrust, allowing the tip of Stephen’s cock to slip up between the cheeks of his ass and closing his eyes in ecstasy as it teases his entrance back there. 

Clenching his fingers over Tony’s hips, Stephen moans at the look of pleasure on Tony’s face. The words take a second to penetrate his sex-fogged brain, then he flings out an arm to point at the nightstand. “And a condom, there in the drawer.”

“Oh? Planning ahead?” The hitch in Tony’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed as he crawls over to retrieve the items. He pulls the packet and the tube out of the drawer and starts to open it then changes his mind and returns to his previous position.

Stephen has watched him the whole time, wondering how to broach what might be a delicate matter. Tony helps when he starts giving instructions.

“Okay, so it’s gonna be like when you’re with a woman, but tighter, so go slow okay. If we need more lube, let me know.”

“Okay, but I haven’t.” Stephen’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Tony tips his head to the side. “Haven’t what?”

“Been with a woman.” Cheeks red, Stephen tries hard not to look away from Tony’s confused frown.

“You mean not even with that hot doctor, what’s her name?”

“Dr Palmer? Christine? No, we never got to that point.” Stephen feels himself getting uncomfortable, enough that his brain clears, allowing thoughts to begin coalescing again. This was what he’d been worried about, what he’d hesitated up to this point for. Wanting to act on his desire, he’d taken the role of aggressor and started this escapade. Now he’s thinking he might have mistaken Tony’s arousal for him as maybe misplaced. He isn’t interested in being a substitute, though the reaction Tony has given reminds him that he could be overthinking it.

“Hey, Stephen, it’s no big deal.” Tony’s voice has the same tone Stephen had used earlier, catching Stephen mid-doubt, interrupting the thoughts that are suddenly multiplying in his head. “If this is your first time, then I just want to say,” his hand comes up to traced Stephen’s cheekbone, then down along his jaw to tip his chin up, “I am honored to be the one.”

The kiss Tony gives him brings back the fire of earlier, hot enough to burn away the doubts and worries and lead them into the act they’d been building up to for so long. Tony places the condom over Stephen, using his hands to ensure it’s snug and bringing him to the brink of orgasm, only to back off and return to straddling his hips again. Reaching back, he applies the palmful of lube to the tip of Stephen’s cock, having a hard time concentrating as he does, with Stephen’s hand on his own cock, stroking it and using his thumb on the end. 

Finally everything is ready and Tony eases back onto the tip, one hand braced back on Stephen’s thigh, the other over Stephen’s hand, guiding his action there to keep him from going too fast. He’s so ready for this, has anticipated this for long enough now, that he moves faster than usual, ignoring the little pain of Stephen’s member stretching him as it slides up inside. The look on Stephen's face, eyes half-closed, mouth slack, breath coming short and hard, tells Tony how much he’s been wanting it as well. 

They move as one, their bodies in rhythm, hands reaching out to grab parts of each other, holding tighter as the tension climbs. Leaning back, needing more of him, all of him, inside, Tony is panting hard, both hands braced back on Stephen’s thighs as Stephen thrusts up into him, hands on Tony’s thighs and hips, moving to his ass and back again until they are caught in the waves of pleasure and tumbled over and over until they reach the edge and go over, Stephen first, then Tony as Stephen’s cock throbs and pulses hot and heavy into him. Tony leans forward, all but falling onto Stephen’s chest as his body goes weak with the release of that tension. 

Wrapping his arms around the lean waist of his newfound lover, Tony finds himself able to admit that he is glad to no longer be blind to this wonderful feeling. He is even happier when Stephen embraces him, snuggling against him until their bodies are fit together like a puzzle that is nearly complete. Tipping his head up to take the kiss Stephen has waiting for him, Tony feels a piece of him click into place, closing a gap he hadn’t even realized had been open all this time. 

Stephen’s face nuzzles in his hair as a chuckle vibrates Tony’s cheek. It keeps him from drifting off into more than a light doze, much as he might want to. His voice a sultry growl, Stephen murmurs, “So, my love, what shall we have for dinner? Besides [Y/N], that is.”


	20. Down - Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Bridge
> 
>  
> 
> [Sheet Music for Piano](https://musescore.com/zakuramusic/down/embed)

Previously in Down - Chorus 3: Stephen’s face nuzzles in his hair as a chuckle vibrates Tony’s cheek. It keeps him from drifting off into more than a light doze, much as he might want to. His voice a sultry growl, Stephen murmurs, “So, my love, what shall we have for dinner? Besides [Y/N], that is.”  
=================================  
You are exhausted by the time you get back to Tony and Stephen’s apartment and onto the elevator headed up. It had been a long two hours since your appointment and spending it in the hospital pharmacy and gift shop wasn’t exactly conducive to resting. There’d been a couple of reasons, in your mind, to not get back too soon, the least of them being because you wanted to give your medicine time to kick in.

It had always been obvious from the first time you’d met Tony and Stephen that there was something more between them than simply friendship. The fact that it hadn’t gone farther could probably be chalked up to Tony, and how, you’re sure, he’d rather have a good friend than a lover any day. While you’d been in the hospital and they’d come to visit you, nearly every day during the week, you’d seen their relationship grow, along with yours and theirs, until they had asked you that unexpected question and you’d turned them down. Since then, though you hadn’t seen them as much, you still texted and exchanged funny snaps, as well as the occasional FaceTime, especially with Tony, and it has become a bet with yourself for how long it would go on before one of them cracked. 

That day could be today, you remind yourself, thinking about Tony’s response to you and Stephen kissing up on the roof of the garage earlier. Lord knows, you’d been having a hard time keeping yourself in check, what with the kissing and petting and then the fighting and tension. If you hadn’t been so upset by the whole Accords issue, you probably would have skipped your appointment and dragged them both into one of their bedrooms without a second thought. Thinking back on the whole situation now, it seems like leaving them alone for a couple of hours was akin to lighting a fuse and walking away. 

The thought puts an eager smile on your face, despite your fatigue. Right now you really want a nap, but things might be pushed in that direction later, especially if you’re the one doing the pushing. You also want to talk to Nat about it, and the meeting with Dr Wanda, and everything that has been going on, but she isn’t answering her phone. It’s almost certain she’s out in the field with the team, so you leave her another teasing message and close your phone. 

You’d hoped to be back in the field with Nat before now, but it makes you feel good that the only replacement she’d accepted for your spot was War Machine. She’d joked about requesting Iron Man and getting the second-rate man-in-a-can, but Rhodes was happy to accept the offer, and his willingness to trade jokes with Nat made everyone respect him almost immediately. Clint and Sam now made it a habit to send you snaps showing them out in the field, making you jealous while simultaneously letting you know how much you are missed. Rhodes had also made a point of keeping you up-to-date, giving you the idea that he might be good as a permanent member of the team, if you and Nat can convince Fury. In the meantime, you are enjoying a chance to have a life outside of work, though these two guys are enough to keep anyone on their toes. 

The elevator ride takes longer than you thought it would, though that could just be your impatience and the idea that you get to see Tony and Stephen again so soon adding to your eagerness for it to arrive at their floor. This is the first time you get to see the apartment, as you’d had to return to the skyship and SHIELD right out of the hospital the last time you’d been in New York. You’d known they lived the posh life, both of them being surgeons and Tony being a genius inventor, but it hadn’t really sank in until you walked into the foyer down below and gotten your first taste of the opulence they took in as routine. The desk clerk had made you show her your ID and checked it against a list hanging behind the upper shelf of the two-tiered desk she manned like it was a fortress before accepting your claim of being a guest here.

The head clerk had waved over one of her lackeys and directed him to take you to the elevator, which you thought of as helpful, until he walked you in and pushed the button for the correct floor, only leaving as the doors begin to slide close. You laugh most of the way up at that. It’s good, you suppose, that access to people like Tony and Stephen is so closely guarded, but it’s not something you’re used to unless it’s something to do with security at work. You’d never even considered it in your private life. Another thing that you’d have to get used to if you moved in with them. 

That thought catches you off-guard, giving you pause as the elevator doors slide open to reveal a beautifully minimalist lobby with two doors, one to your left and one to your right. To your right there is a lovely gold frame with a name you don’t recognize hanging next to the buzzer for that door. Turning to your left, you head for the door leading to their apartment, stepping into the shallow alcove after hitting the buzzer with three short strikes. You are doing your best not to let that thought come back, but it echoes around in your skull, no doubt amplified by the Benadryl and pain meds running through your system. You’re actually considering what it would be like to move into this apartment, to live with Tony and Stephen and make adjustments to your life. 

It’s a beautiful, tempting notion, not quelled in the least by the notion of riding that elevator home at the end of a work day, or week, or whenever you liked, to be greeted by these two beautiful idiots that have carved their way into your soul upon your arrival. Home. That’s the thought that is ringing like a bell in your head when Tony answers the door.

  
“Hello! Oh my god, [Y/N], are you alright? You look terrible. What’s the matter?”

He gathers you into his arms as you reach for him, your heart so full it’s spilling out of your eyes. You slip your arms around his waist and hug him tight, laying your head on his shoulder. The hum of his arc reactor is music to your tired ears, echoed by your own. It’s only noticeable when you are with him like this, as though they are communicating. If they represent your heart, then you feel that they just might be. Looking up, you can see him watching you, so you give him a smile and wipe your cheeks on his shirt. 

  
“I’m sorry, it’s been a long couple of hours,” you murmur, before going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He smiles back and ducks his chin, then tips his head and kisses you back. This one is short and sweet, a greeting, welcoming you in where you want to be.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love. Is there anything wrong? You look, I don’t know, puffy.”

You grin at his assessment, knowing you probably look frightful. The cabby and the head clerk had both given you looks that told you how sketchy you look right now. “No, well, yes, but it’s probably just allergies. Dr Banner says some Benadryl and ibuprofen should take care of it.” 

Stephen has made his way over to the two of you by this time, looking eager and concerned. He wraps his arms around the two of you, reaching out to peck you on the cheek, the easiest spot to reach right now. 

“There’s our girl. Oh wow, you do look like you’ve had a bit of an allergy attack. Too much fresh air?” He grins at you and winks at Tony and that’s when you start to suspect that you may have won your bet. Granted, it’s just with yourself, but it fills you with even more joy, and an eagerness to find out if it’s true. 

“Yes, but I have taken medication and now I am hungry and tired and all I want to do is sit down and relax.”

“Head doctor wear you out then? I hate shrinks.” Stephen grins and steps back to let Tony lead you over to the couch in front of the piano. 

You really want to just plop down onto the cool leather cushions and kick your feet up, but the urge to let them know you’ve come to a decision is greater than your desire for a nap. Remaining standing, you hold onto Tony’s hand and stretch out your other to Stephen. 

“Come over here, dear, I have something to tell you both.” You know you’re grinning like a fool, but you’re okay with that right now. When Stephen takes your hand, you give his and Tony’s a squeeze in anticipation as you say the word. “Yes.”

“What?” 

The word comes out of Tony’s mouth, but it’s Stephen that catches the meaning first. His mouth agape, he looks over at Tony, who’s slowly showing the signs that it’s dawning on him why you are telling him that. A huge idiotic smile spreads across his face, then seems to infect Stephen as he gets his own big smile and looks back at you. Tossing your head back in laughter, you pull them both towards you, holding out your arms to hug them.

“Yes? Really? What?” Tony is practically squealing as he steps in and grabs you, followed quickly by Stephen vying for his own hug. 

The moment that ensues is a confusion of hugs and kisses and more hugs as each of you try to outdo the other in professing congratulations. You finally end up in a semblance of the hug you all had shared earlier in the day, with your arms around each of their necks and theirs wrapped around you and each other. Laying your head on Tony’s shoulder, then switching to Stephen’s, you smirk at them, waiting for them to calm down enough for the next surprise you have for them. 

Stephen kisses your forehead, then gives you an odd look from the corner of his eye before stepping back and shooting a glance at Tony, who nods in return. He raises the back of his hand to your forehead at the same time that Tony takes your wrist between his fingers. Your protests are waved away as they check your temperature, your heart rate and look into your eyes, ears and mouth. When Tony checks your lymph nodes under your chin, you whimper as the pain shoots through your jaw and up into your head, bringing back the throbbing from earlier. Pushing you back onto the couch, he waves back at Stephen, who heads for the kitchen, and peers into your eyes, a frown marring his handsome face.

“How long has these symptoms been going on?”

“I’m fine. I told you, I took some medicine already. Dr Banner says it’s probably just allergies.” You look away, annoyed that your moment has been dismissed, even though it’s by their concern for your well-being. 

Coming from the kitchen, Stephen brings you a glass of orange juice, setting it on a coaster on the low table in front of the couch. “Yes, but you shouldn’t still be showing signs of the histamines and you have a low grade fever. Stop protesting and tell us when and what you took so we can take care of you.” 

“Fine. Guess y’all will just have to wait for my next surprise.” You can’t help but pout, even while you are feeling warm and squishy in your middle from their care and concern.

  
Tony smirks and gives you a peck on the forehead, then pushes your body over with his hip and gets comfortable next to you as you’re stretched out on the couch, pillows at your back propping you upright. “We can wait.”

Your cheeks go warm with the look he is giving you, though there’s nothing in it but love and concern. Stephen standing behind him isn’t helping, as he’s got his arms folded and is attempting to give you a comforting look, only to have it marred by the furrows between his brows. Sighing, you begin listing off what you’ve taken recently.

“Four ibuprofen, two Excedrin, two Benadryl, and 32 ounces of Gatorade, blue cherry flavor.”

Tony frowns and grabs the glass of orange juice. “Drink this. You’re probably still dehydrated and the Benadryl is only making that worse. Stephen?”

“On it.” He heads back to the kitchen and gets a glass of water as Tony leans over and lifts your eyelid, peering at it and making it difficult to bring the juice to your lips. Your whine of protest is ignored as he switches to the other eye, then he looks at you and motions for you to drink. Sticking out your tongue first, you go to take a swallow, only to have him stop you and take the glass from you. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He squints and sighs, then gets up from the couch and goes into the kitchen, a hand on Stephen’s arm getting him to follow. There they whisper together for a few seconds, making you wonder if they don’t truly understand what your Enhancement lets you do. 

Listening in, you catch several doctor phrases, mostly about your symptoms and what Tony saw when he looked at your eyelids and tongue. They continue like this and conclude you probably have strep throat but they don’t have anything to test it with here. What they do have is antibiotics, which they decide to give you and then take you to the office in the morning, whether or not your symptoms go away. You shake your head, sure they aren’t going to include Dr Banner in this process until Stephen mentions giving him a call. With that, they grab stuff from the cupboards and come back to where you’re reclining, acting as if you’ve been relaxing and waiting for them all along. 

The door buzzer goes off as they return and they stop, look at each other in surprise, then Tony goes to the door, laughing as he does. Stephen hands you the glass of water, along with a couple of pills. 

“Here. Take these. It’s ciprofloxacin. Tony says your tongue is coated, so it’s a good bet you’ve gone and caught strep throat.” He smirks at you as you take the pills and swallow them down, the cool water feeling wonderful on your sore throat. “I swear,” he continues, leaning down to murmur in your ear, “if you give me strep, I’m gonna have to make you pay.”

You turn your head to look him in the eye, suddenly turned on by what you hear in his voice. The emotions showing in his gaze are a mix of concern and desire, catching you by surprise. You have to know if you’re reading it right, though, as he hasn’t given you much more to go on besides kisses and hugs, much as a friend would. A question comes to mind, bringing a grin with it. 

“Oh, and how’s that, doctor?” You wag your eyebrows at him and lick your lips. Licking them again, you notice how dry they are and wish for some lip balm. The last thing you want to do is kiss him with dry lips. 

He leans over, bracing himself on your hip as he whispers in your ear. “I’d have to take you to bed and give you a full body exam.” 

When he eases back to sit on his haunches, you are pleased to see that his cheeks match the way yours feel, warm and red from his suggestion. Before you can give him more than a gaping stare of lust, Tony speaks up from the table. 

“Hey now, none of that over there. We have Chinese and Sushi to eat and I don’t need you getting [Y/N] all excited, Stephen.”

“I dunno, Doc, I rather like his bedside manner.” You smirk at Stephen as you direct your retort at Tony, reaching out to take Stephen's hand and give it a squeeze. “Though I guess this means no more kissing for now, huh.”

“Yes, exactly,” Tony replies, coming over to stand behind Stephen, resting his hands on the other man's shoulders. 

Stephen glances up at Tony, a sweet little smile curving his lips. This all but confirms what you have suspected, but you want more. A thought occurs to you on how to get to the bottom of this, but you know you'll have to wait for just the right moment. Meanwhile, your stomach is reacting to the words Tony had spoken, grumbling softly. 

You sit up and hold out your hands for them to help you up. They each grab one and pull you to your feet, a sweet grin on each face. Dizziness hits you, hard and fast enough that you're collapsing to the side before you can catch your balance. Stephen does catch you, and lowers you back to the couch as Tony jumps forward to help. All you can do is close your eyes and hang onto them as they get you situated again on the couch, adjusting the pillows to support your head and removing your shoes before elevating your legs. 

The murmurs they are making to each other remind you of a momma cat fussing over her kittens and you wish you could open your eyes to see them as they worry over you. But your head is swimming and making you stomach churn, almost enough to vomit, though that’s the one thing you hate more than crying, so you tell yourself sternly that you’re not going to. To your amazement, you listen, and keep down the liquid and pills you’d swallowed earlier. A few more minutes of keeping your eyes closed and head laid back on the pillows and you are back to feeling like you're not going to fall over. 

The person with his hands on your head, running his fingers through your hair, resolves into Tony, who greets your opened eyes with a smile on his lips and concern in his warm brown eyes. At your feet is Stephen, a glass of wine in his hands, though he isn’t drinking it, instead merely twirling the stem of the glass around in his long, dexterous fingers as he watches you, though his gaze flicks every few seconds over to Tony before coming back to you. 

Your eyes meet his, catching unexpected depths of emotion there, then they are gone in a blink and he is smiling, coming forward to kneel next to you, wine glass casually left on the table next to your orange juice glass. 

“Well, that was dramatic,” he quips, caressing your cheek.


	21. Down - Chorus 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comments Welcome!
> 
> Down - Chorus 4  
> Are you down, are you down, are you d-d-d-d-down, are you  
> Down, are you down, are you d-d-down, are you?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?  
> Down, down, down, d-d-d-down?
> 
> Are you down, are you down, are you d-d-d-d-down, are you  
> Down, are you down, are you d-d-down, are you?  
> Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?
> 
> Warning: Avengers AU; fluff and stuff; bad Japanese translations; wine drinking; sexual innuendos; angst probably; illness; medical talk

Previously in Down - Chorus 3: Stephen’s face nuzzles in his hair as a chuckle vibrates Tony’s cheek. It keeps him from drifting off into more than a light doze, much as he might want to. His voice a sultry growl, Stephen murmurs, “So, my love, what shall we have for dinner? Besides [Y/N], that is.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Previously in Down - Bridge: The person with his hands on your head, running his fingers through your hair, resolves into Tony, who greets your opened eyes with a smile on his lips and concern in his warm brown eyes. At your feet is Stephen, a glass of wine in his hands, though he isn’t drinking it, instead merely twirling the stem of the glass around in his long, dexterous fingers as he watches you, though his gaze flicks every few seconds over to Tony before coming back to you. 

Your eyes meet his, catching unexpected depths of emotion there, then they are gone in a blink and he is smiling, coming forward to kneel next to you, wine glass casually left on the table next to your orange juice glass. 

“Well, that was dramatic,” he quips, caressing your cheek.  
=================================  
His soft tone conveys more than his sass, trembling despite his effort at levity. The slight frown as his hand drops from your face to rest on your shoulder pricks your own concern for your health, belated as it may be. His hand had been cool on your skin, which feels even more flush with heat after his touch. 

Tony stirs at your head, his hand touching your forehead and then reaching for the orange juice. 

“Here, drink this. You need to get more fluids in you.” 

His arm goes around your shoulders, helping you to rise up enough to sip from the glass. The orange juice is cool and tart, and burns as it goes down your throat, causing you to wince and push the glass away. 

Stephen rises and heads to the kitchen. “I’ll get some water.”

Helping you to sit up more, Tony frowns at you. “How long have you been feeling this way? Any symptoms this morning? Did you go anywhere before you came here?”

You aren’t dizzy but you do feel lightheaded and a bit loopy, making it hard for you to concentrate on his words right away. Tilting your head to rest on your shoulder as you prop yourself up on your elbow, you gaze at him, entranced by what you see in his face. It’s been too long since someone looked at you this way, you think, then try to remember the last time someone had. Nat maybe, out in the field. Your hand reaches out, touching his cheek, your fingers curving around the edge of his jaw. The desire to kiss him brings you back, knowing that it isn’t safe for you to do so.

“No, no symptoms this morning. It came on suddenly, I think,” You blink as you speak, focusing back on Tony’s face as a whole, instead of just where your hand lays. The memory of spitting a mouth full of snot in the trash as you left the garage earlier comes back to you, causing you to pause and look off. “No wait. I had a coughing fit in the elevator down to catch a cab for my appointment. Would that be…?”

Your words trail off as Stephen hands you a glass of water. He sets a glass pitcher on the table and resumes his seat, closer to your head this time. The feel of him against your stomach is solid, anchoring you here. Placing your hand on his back and giving him a couple of rubs, you ease off your elbow to lay back down. Tony gives your cheek a gentle pat, then uses Stephen’s knee to rise up to his feet. 

“Could be. Strep can take up to five days to show. Someone onboard the skyship is probably the carrier. Do you think you can eat anything?” Tony walks to the dining table as he speaks, hands tucking into his pockets. 

“I can always eat sushi,” you grin as you make your assertion.

“Nothing raw. Not right now.” Stephen gives you a sideways smile, touching your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Sorry, darling, can’t risk it in your state.”

Tony comes back, holding a plate of food and some chopsticks. “Here ya go. This should tide you over for a little while. I’m assuming you can use these,” he smirks as he holds out the chopsticks. “I mean, you are part of an international, world-wide police force, right?”

Struggling just a bit to sit upright, helped by Stephen’s strong shoulder and using his forearm for counterbalance as well as something to hold onto in case the dizziness returns, you snort laughter at Tony. 

“Pfffthaha, you should never assume anything, Tony-san. Anata wa jibun jishin kara o shiri o tsukuru kamo shiremasen. Mochiron watashi wa hashi o tsukau hōhō o shitte imasu. Watashi wa nan to omoimasu ka? Nama butaniku?” 

[“You may make an ass of yourself. Of course I know how to use chopsticks. What do you think I am? Raw pork?”]  
[あなたは自分のお尻を作るかもしれません。 もちろん私は箸を使う方法を知っています。 私は何と思いますか？ 生豚肉？]

“Nama buta? Hoka no nanika o imi suru to omou.'” Tony replies, pausing in the middle of handing you the plate, one eyebrow raised as he smirks at you.  


[“Raw pork? I think you mean something else.”]  
[生豚肉？ 私はあなたが他の何かを意味すると思う。]

“Ā, watashi no warui. Shigoto kara no jōdandesu. Watashi wa michi no buta o imi shita.” You retort, taking advantage of his surprise at your snarky reply to snatch the utensils, still wrapped in paper, from between his fingers.  


[“Oh, my bad. It’s a joke from work. I meant uncivilised swine.”]  
[ああ、私の悪い。 仕事からの冗談です。 私は未知の豚を意味した。]

Laughing so hard he rolls onto his side on the couch, Stephen gasps for breath. “Ahahahaha, she got you!”

Lips curled in a triumphant smile, you dump the cheap sticks into your hand and pop them apart. “Itadakimasu!”

Handing you the plate with what looks to be admiration in his smile, Tony gives you a half bow. “That she did,” he agrees. “How many languages do you speak?”

You’d already popped a mouthful of beef and broccoli in and are working on chomping the broccoli stem, so you shrug and chew until you can speak again. “I dunno. A lot. It’s part of my talent, so I learn them pretty easily. How about you?”

Tony walks to the dining table and grabs some food, turning his back on you so you’re unable to read his face. You know he’s smart, but he also doesn’t like to talk about himself, always preferring to step back from the limelight. Stephen turns his gaze in your direction and winks before speaking up, his words aimed at Tony’s back. “Not as many as I can. It’s a sore spot with him, I’m sure.”

Never one to toot his own horn, Tony still can’t help but rise to the bait. He smirks to hide his reticence as he comes back to the low table, folding his legs and sitting neatly without spilling a drop. Pulling the table back into place, he flashes another grin at you.

“Oh you know. The usual suspects. French, Russian, German, Japanese, Mandarin, etc. Also a smattering of Arabic, Farsi, Hindi, Hebrew, Urdu, and Kurdish that I’ve picked up during my trips over there, although Urdu’s never been my strong suit.”

Impressed, you grin, knowing it looks goofy with your mouth full of food. You hadn’t realized how much you still had to find out about them both until now. Clapping in appreciation, you turn to Stephen, who rolls his eyes and waves a hand as though he’s going to be self-effacing, only to straighten up and grin mischievously.

“Seventeen, last time I counted. Let’s see,” he holds up his hands to tick them off, “Including those Tony listed, that’s eleven, though I’m not good at Urdu either, so ten, plus Italian, Latin, Spanish, Dutch, Swahili, or at least one of the dialects, Korean, Cantonese, and Portuguese. What’s that, eighteen, then?”

“You can’t count Latin, you’re a doctor,” Tony protests, waving his chopsticks at Stephen like they’re a pair of wands.

“I can and I will,” Stephen insists, chin going up as his smile broadens, “I can’t believe you didn’t.”

“Because I’m not a cheater! Have at you!”

Lunging at him from his sitting position, Tony looks to have a straight shot at tagging Stephen on the arm until Stephen grabs the chopsticks from your finger with his left hand and catches Tony’s between them. Tony slides his back, then attacks again, aiming for Stephen’s nose, you think. Stephen swirls his sticks around the attack, tosses both of his sticks to his right hand and goes in, tagging Tony on the ear. With an indignant huff, Tony is on his knees, arms raised like he’s the Karate Kid, then darts in to tag Stephen’s ear, but is turned back again.

“No fair, your arms are longer than mine,” complains Tony as he jumps to his feet, landing in the beginning movement of Siu Nim Tao, the first form of [Wing Chun](http://www.blackbeltwiki.com/wing-chun-forms), holding the chopsticks in his right hand like a weapon. 

“As you wish,” replies Stephen, an enigmatic smile gracing his face. He also rises and steps into the [en garde](https://www.fencing.net/449/glossary-of-fencing-terms/) pose of a fencer, the two chopsticks pointed at Tony as though it were his epee. 

You get the feeling they do this a lot, especially when they use their feet to shove the table off to the side in unison. Pulling out your phone, you prop it up by your knee, discreetly starting a recording of these lovely idiots. Stephen is watching you when you look up, then winks and lunges at Tony, a loud yell announcing his attack. Tony fends it off and the battle ensues. Soon you are holding your phone and following them as they dance around the large room, neither of them giving more than a few feet at a time unless it’s to lead the other into a defensive position. 

A phone call interrupts your recording, annoying until you see that it’s Bruce. 

“Hey,” you yell out in general, boosting it just enough to make yourself heard, “knock it off! I gotta take this call! It’s Dr Banner!”

Immediately the sparring ceases, both men scrambling to sit on the couch next to you. Tony wins, snuggling into the spot where Stephen had been before their mock battle. Settling on the floor next to your pillows, Stephen rests his arms on his knees, watching you as you answer the call. You reach over and give his arm a pat, then rub it a couple of times, enjoying the feel of his arm hair under your palm. 

“Come on, quit flirting and answer the phone,” Tony chides you with a soft laugh, wiggling against your hips and grinning, “before Banner grabs the nearest quinjet and shows up at our door.”

Giggling at that image, you swipe your phone open and tap the speaker. “Hello? Dr Banner? Can I help you?”

“Hiya, [Y/N]! I’m just calling to find out how you’re doing. Did the medicine help?” Bruce’s voice comes over the speaker, a bit fuzzy from being bounced around the world, but the worry is clear. 

You feel rather clandestine as you listen to him, aware that, based off how you had greeted him, he knows you’re not in a secure area. He’d probably been hoping you could give him more info about your meeting with Dr Maximoff, but that's going to have to wait for now. It had slipped your mind that you were supposed to call and give him an update, until he called you.

“Yeah, Doc, it’s working, but Dr Stark thinks I probably have strep throat. My throat is sore up under my jaw and I’m running a fever and -”

“Put him on.” The base growl you hear in Bruce’s voice as he cuts you off reminds you of a protective parent ready to fight the world for you. It shakes you, as you’ve never had someone be like that for you before. 

“Okay,” you give your consent quietly. Handing the phone to Tony, you see he’s gone still and stern, any signs of playfulness wiped away. You’re sure it’s because even though that tone had been subvocal, coming through the phone from Bruce, Tony had caught it, reacting to it the same as if Bruce had accused him of malpractice. 

Tony takes the phone and heads over to the kitchen area, then taps the wall back by the fridge, the one you figured for a walk-in pantry and to your surprise, walks in and closes the door. Acting quickly, you focus your hearing on that area, honing in on the walls to either side of the door. Again, you’re surprised, as you hear the sounds of computer harddrives and other electronic equipment start up, accompanied by Tony’s footsteps vanishing into the depths. Then a hum starts up and you are no longer able to hear anything from that area. 

Taking a deep breath, you sigh as you let it out. You’re not really interested in what they talk about, but it is habit for you to gather info whenever you can. One of the hazards of this business, is how Nat put it. Your contemplation of the vagaries of working as an agent is abruptly interrupted by Stephen’s hand running over your hair, smoothing and petting it.

You glance over at him to find he isn't looking at you, but at the door Tony had gone through, a slight frown marring his visage. Wanting to distract him, as well as get answers for yourself, you reach over and lay your right hand on his arm, taking his hand from your hair with your free one to kiss the back of his fingers. He turns to look at you, his eyes shining with a welter of emotions. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“Did you mean what you said, earlier?” you ask him, tucking his hand up under your chin. You watch his face go through expressions, rapidly changing until settling on a mostly happy one.

Stephen hears the question you ask him, but it takes a few seconds for him to decide on how much to tell you. He absolutely meant what he'd said, about giving you a full body exam, and as a sexual innuendo, not medically. Your question though, prompts him to think about how to explain to you the unique position you now hold in his life. How you are the only other person besides Tony that he's ever considered for a long term relationship. And that he's never been more sincere in his life, though the words he'd used had been so flippant. This conundrum has left him in such turmoil that when you do a simple thing like rest your chin on his hand and gaze at him that way, all his intellect and knowledge is blown away like dust. His mouth open slightly, he can barely force out a few words.

“Yeah,” he swallows and nods, “every word.”

The connection between you and Stephen buzzes with the energy of a live wire, sparking heat, in your heart and lower, down in your gut. Despite your illness, you have to fight the urge to lean forward and ask for a kiss. You know he'd probably give you one, even though he knows better, more than you do. He touches your cheek with his free hand, his fingertips skimming your hairline. Leaning into the caress, you let your eyelids droop, humming your contentment.

“There’d better be consequences!” Tony's voice breaks the spell, sounding loud in the quiet of the kitchen as he comes back in, still on your phone. He catches sight of you and Stephen, gives you a knowing wink and shakes his head. “Didn't I just say that? I promise, Bruce. She's gonna be fine. Don't worry. Tell Fury to call me and I promise I won't send him to voicemail, not more than twice. Yes. Yes. Yes, I'll let her know. Bye.”

He taps the screen, ending the call, then stands there looking at the phone for several seconds. Tossing it up and catching it, he comes over and hands it to you, leaned over and kisses your forehead, then sits back where he'd been on the couch. Laying back against you, he raises his arms over his head, stretching his back over your hips and groaning. You curl around him, still holding Stephen's hand, and look at him, a small grin playing over your lips. His arms come down to rest along your side and down your leg, as he looks over at the two of you, a restrained smile on his face.

“Go on. Don't let me interrupt you.” He flicks his fingers at you, his lips twitching. “I believe you were gazing raptly at Stephen, no wait. Switch that, he was gazing raptly into your eyes, and you,” he taps your nose gently, his fingertip resting a second longer than expected as he pauses to gaze at you, “were melting into a puddle of goo. Not that I blame you.”

Tony’s grin at Stephen brings a blush to the other man's cheeks, making him duck his head, before lifting it back up, denim blue eyes raising to catch hold of eyes of whiskey brown. They remain that way for many long seconds, more than you expect and enough that you are eager for them to do more. Shifting in his place on the couch, Tony’s arm slips down behind you, breaking the spell between the two men. 

Stephen rises to his feet as Tony turns to look at you, his eyes lowered for a second as he processes his thoughts, then lifting to give you a tiny smile, one that barely curves his lips. Walking to the dining table, Stephen rolls his shoulders as though to rid himself of tension. He picks up a wine glass and the bottle once he’s there and pours most of it into the glass. It’s half gone by the time he sets it down again. 

Not sure exactly why they continue to resist showing each other more than little bits of affection in front of you, you decide to give them a hand, the only way you know how. Knowing that your way is both uncouth and uncivilised, you are, however, sure of its effectiveness. You hadn’t wanted to use it, but they have left you no choice. The best thing about your method, though, is the ease of its strategy. Timing it just right will give you the desired results, while screwing it up would make one or both of them mad at you. You have a contingency plan for that as well, even though you are pretty certain you won’t have to use it.

You return Tony’s tiny smile with a bigger one of your own. Skimming you fingertips over his cheek, you tweak his nose and laugh. When he smiles again, bigger this time, you wink at him. Using flirtations to get him to lower his guard may be considered unfair, but you are well aware of the truth of that saying. It’s the reason why that ‘80s singer, Pat Benatar sang “Love is a Battlefield”, and why the long-dead poet had declared "the rules of fair play do not apply in [love and war](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euphues)." If they had been cooperative, instead of being such lovable fools, you wouldn’t be in this position, and everyone could get on with letting you tell them what the consequences of their proposition will be. 

Continuing your flirtations with Tony as Stephen fills his plate with stuff that you know he isn’t going to let you eat, you wait and watch them both. Tony is busy kissing the back of your left hand, holding onto it much as he had the first night you met him in the hospital. You think back to that night, him and Stephen coming in after hours, talking the guard into letting them see you, pretending you were asleep. The look in Tony’s eyes seems as nostalgic as you feel, making you wonder if your thoughts and his are aligned at the moment. You’re sure they are when his fingers come to rest on your wrist, touching your pulse even though he isn’t looking at his watch. 

Running your fingers through his hair, you ask him what he thinks. “How’s my pulse, Doc?”

“Faster than it should be,” he answers, a frown and worry marks darkening his expression. A touch of the back of his hand on your forehead brings another frown and he opens up his phone to make notes on one of the projecting screens that pops out. “Too soon to give you anything more, though, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens over the next hour or so.” 

Stephen heads back to your couch, both hands and arms filled with plates and a bottle of wine, as well as cleansing wipes and a bottle of water. You pout, knowing you’re stuck drinking water until you are well again, to which Tony laughs and bops your lower lip with his finger. Sitting up as Stephen makes his way back to the area and sits on the floor where Tony had been earlier, Tony grabs the canister of cleansing wipes that Stephen had brought with him. As he begins wiping down his hands, you see your opportunity to strike open up before you. 

“So tell me, Tony, do you have to wipe just your hands before you eat? And is it just when you eat or are there other times that you feel the need to scour the germs away? Hmmm?” You smirk as he looks over at you, a questioning gaze that tells you he isn’t sure where you are headed with these questions. Stephen glances up as well, though his eyes have glints of suspicion in them. Propping up your head on your fist, you brace yourself on your elbow and catch Tony’s gaze again.

“I mean, do you scrub down before sex, not like fucking, but using your fingers. Maybe just in someone’s mouth, or their fingers in your mouth,” You look him squarely in his eyes, wanting him to see how hot this idea is getting you, see the heat that is rising in your loins reflecting in your eye. “Or, you know, like you get this sudden urge to give me an intense, personal check-up, hand down my pants, sliding under my panties, over my bush, between the folds of my labia and into the heat of my pussy. Do your fingers have to be cleaned beforehand then as well? I need to know, cuz I’m not sure if I can wait that long while you wipe down before you tickle my throat, if you know what I mean.”

Tony’s lips are pursed now, even as he continues to clean his fingers individually with the wipes. His cheeks have gone red, the blush spreading up around his eyes, which glimmer with amusement and he shifts sideways in his seat. You bite your lower lip, grinning at him as you do, then turn to look at Stephen sideways, noting that he is in the middle of drinking more wine. 

“Of course, I could always ask Stephen. I’m sure he’ll tell me the truth about having you in bed.”

Stephen’s mouthful of wine comes out in a fine, misty spray, accompanied by a loud raspberry as he spits it out over the table, gulping in air afterwards and glaring at the both of you.

“No, he doesn’t really know too much about that.” comes Tony’s voice in a smug purr from behind your head, “He was in too much of a hurry this afternoon for anything as slow as fingering. But then, we did have you to look forward to for dinner.”

You swivel your head to look Tony in the eye, stunned and turned on all at the same time by his boldness. He lays down, covering your lower body, arm over your ribs as he leans up closer to your face, though still out of reach of a kiss. His grin spreads out across his face, giving him a glow that you can only equate with the sensation that is heating you under where he is laying. As you reach out to caress his cheek, you feel your throat closing up again, this time building up into your nose. 

Without warning, or just enough to having you turning your face away, you sneeze, hard and fast and loud, several times in a row. You feel Tony rising up and hear Stephen get up as well, but your eyes are closed and the sneezing isn’t letting up. Gasping for air in-between the explosions that are coming from your mouth and nose, you can hear yourself getting louder, but aren’t able to do anything to keep from amplifying the sound. The wine glass that Stephen had set down after his spit take cracks and shatters, then the wine bottle, both from the high-pitch noises coming from you with the sneezes. A towel is pushed into your hands and you blanket your face with it, muffling the sounds enough that they no longer cause physical harm to the stuff around you and after another minute or so, you finally can breath again without sneezing. 

Your throat is raw now, worse than before, making you moan. The throbbing in your head has become full-on pounding, so much so that it is hard for you to hear anything. There’s a ringing in your ears that’s creating echoes of what you can hear, which is mostly Tony and Stephen worriedly discussing your condition and what can be done about it. Their words aren’t clear, sounding garbled and distorted as the vertigo from earlier returns with a vengeance. Laying your head back on the pillows helps with that, but you can feel sweat trickling down between your shoulder blades, causing your back to itch. You feel as though your fever has been dialed up to eleven. 

As your eyes close, indicating that you’ve finally relaxed enough to rest for a bit, Tony stands there, hands on his hips, baffled at this new presentation of symptoms. The remnant of his hard-on that had sprung up at your description of him giving you an intimate inspection with his fingers only serves to irritate him. This is supposed to be a happy day, filled with food, fun, and frolicking, not worries about your health and Stephen’s sudden shyness. He’d thought after the show of boldness earlier this afternoon, they’d gotten past that. Perhaps it’s because Stephen hadn’t been with any female yet, let alone one that he really likes, which is what you are. Again, he curses the irony of having too much on his plate, much as he loves every bit of it and wouldn’t put off anything but you getting sick, if he could.

“I’m no diagnostician, Tony, but I don’t think it’s strep that we’re dealing with here.” Stephen’s voice, deep and soft, brings Tony out of his reverie to find his friend and colleague standing next to him. The worry on Stephen’s face echoes what he is trying to keep from breaking loose. 

Tony can no longer fight back the suspicion that with your recent exposure in the media, plus what you went through down in Venezuela, you have been a very high-profile target, and the possibility of you being the target of a terrorist attack is very real. It’s also apparent from this latest set of symptoms that whatever it is infecting you is also affecting your control over your enhanced abilities. 

The probability of something bad happening if you did lose control while conscious is greater than most, but that is something locked away in your SHIELD profile. He only knows because there aren’t any secrets from him when it comes to anything stored in SHIELD systems. Altogether, the stakes are getting higher with every passing minute, and he can’t tell Stephen any more than just the basics, even if he does know about Iron Man. 

Stephen’s arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him into a much needed hug. He rest his forehead on Stephen’s collarbone, bringing his arms up under the taller man’s to give him a tight squeeze around the ribs, breathing deeply of his scent and calming down with the contact. 

The low rumble of Stephen’s voice is soothing, despite the implications of his words. “She needs to go in. We need to bring her to the hospital in case she goes into full anaphylactic shock.”

“We’re going to need an isolation chamber as well as notify the CDC and SHIELD. I’m sure the hospital has HazMat suits and equipment at the ER that we can requisition. If you can contact the hospital and the CDC, then I’ll call Banner and let him know we’ll be transporting her early.” Tony steps away from the warm, soothing embrace and shifts into doctor mode, flashing Stephen a grateful smile. 

As he is pulling his phone from his pocket, he hears a gurgling, rasping gasp coming from you lying on the couch. Turning around, he sees you roll to your side and begin to cough, deep, harsh, rattling whoops that shake your entire frame. You can’t seem to catch your breath, drawing in air just to cough it out again. Tony spins around, bringing Stephen back into view. 

“Quick! Get the epipens from the first aid kits. There should be two each.” He takes two long steps and is at your side, checking your temp with the back of his hand and patting you on the back with his hand cupped for best results. He changes his mind and shouts over his shoulder. “Bring the whole damn thing!”

Grabbing your hand, he heaves you upright, leaning your swaying body against his hip, one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. The coughs deepen, but remain unproductive. Tony suspects your throat tissue is swollen and blocking your air passage, as your face is puffed up, swollen as though you’d been stung by bees. He raises the arm closest to him up, hoping to help open the airways, even just a little. That’s when he sees the edges of your lips have gone blue, the appearance of which strikes fear in his heart.  
Tilting your head back, he peers at your eyes, muttering desperately under his breath. “NO, no, no, no. Come on, breathe. Breathe, damn you. Do you hear me?”

To his left, Stephen crouches down and sticks your thigh with one of the epipens, then tosses it on the table and opens the other, sticking it in your other leg. Your hand comes up and paws at your throat, a thin croak whistling out as you struggle for air. 

“Can’t…..breeaaathhe…”

Struggling to hold you upright as you begin to spasm, trying to get air into your lungs, Tony is still muttering, though it’s no longer intelligible. 

“Tony! Lay her on the floor. We need to do CPR! Stat!” Stephen’s authoritative commands break through Tony’s fear-induced panic, triggering his training and getting him back into reflexive doctor thinking. 

Tony slides you onto the floor and pushes the table back to clear space for him to kneel next to you. Movements born of long hours of practice has you in the proper position in seconds. He clears your mouth and tips your head back, then nods at Stephen and lowers his head. Blowing breath into your mouth drives home the irony of the situation, likes nails in his heart. Stephen has your wrist in his fingers, watching his watch. 

“Pulse is thready. Tracheotomy.” Stephen puts actions to his words, retrieving the kit for that from the first aid box and grabbing gloves as well. Handing a pair to Tony, he grabs the cleansing wipes and quickly douses his hands with a fresh one, handing it to Tony, then donning the gloves and ripping open the package. Knowing from the shock on Tony’s face that this is affecting him deeply, Stephen takes the scalpel in hand and swabs your throat at the juncture of your collarbone. Taking a handful of gauze, he places it near the spot and proceeds to push the scalpel into your flesh, opening the passage of your windpipe just enough to be able to slip the plastic pipe of the trache tube into the hole there, pushing at it to get it through the cartilage. 

The snap of gloves being pulled on signifies Tony’s readiness, followed by his hands covered in purple taping the trache tube in place as air whistles in and out of the passage way. The blue of your lips fade back to paleness, not back to the color they had been or should be, but not the shade of death any more. Stephen wipes the blood from your skin, then holds the gauze out for Tony to take and dispose of in the biohazard container along with the scalpel. Tony goes to remove the gloves and Stephen holds out his hand, stopping him.

“I think we should remain protected for now. Including masks.” He nods at the first aid box. Tony grabs two of the masks from there in the closest kit and hands one to Stephen. Rising as he adjusts the mask, Stephen grabs another set of gloves and his phone from the table’s surface. “I’ll contact the CDC and Dr Banner. Get a sheet and put it on the couch. We can lay her there until the ambulance arrives.”

Tony nods, glassy eyes showing how dazed he is at the sudden downturn you have taken. Sliding your arm over so he can get to his feet, he notices a red sore on the inner part of your arm. It is both strange and familiar to him, reminding him of the training sessions all agents of SHIELD have to go through when learning about bioterrorism. Kneeling over you, he begins to exam you for more sores. He finds them.

Four on your torso, one of which has a blister top, while the others are crusted over and turning black in the middle. Moving his hands up to your head, he feels in your hair. He finds another one, crusted like the three on your body. Then, turning your head and moving your hair out of the way, he finds another with his thumb, accidentally pressing on it as you twitch in his hands. It bursts open, oozing pus and clear liquid over his thumb and your skin, running into your hair. 

“FUck! Stephen! Stephen!” Tony is yelling at the neurosurgeon, his hands holding your mouth open now as he is examining the inside of your mouth. Sores there have similar appearances to the ones that are crusted on your body, with the addition of white circular patches surrounding the sores. Your lips are dry and cracking, puffy along with the rest of your face, your eyes swollen shut. 

Rushing to his side, Stephen crouches down to see what has gotten Tony even more upset. The sight of the ulcers in your mouth nearly makes him gag. Without looking more than from the corner of his eyes he can see how pale Tony has gotten. He can’t blame him in the least.

“We’re going to have to be quarantined as well,” Stephen whispers, “at least until we figure out what this is.”

“I know what it is. I’ve seen this before, overseas.” The horror on Tony’s face strikes fear into Stephen, emphasizing the dire straits they’ve entered. “Anthrax. I’m sure of it. She’s been infected with anthrax.”

End of First Movement


	22. First Interlude - Remix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Stephen Strange, MD.   
> Characters: Dr Stephen Strange; The Ancient One  
> Location: Kathmandu, Nepal and some place in the USA for a brief visit
> 
> [Down Remix playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUPPv1Aqgq83JS6MCkaRBI_OsRH1ytgkW) on YouTube
> 
> Comments Welcome!

A room in Kamar-Taj, a couple of years in the future:

_Down, down, d-d-down, down, d-down, down?_

The song ends once again and silence pervades the room. It isn’t very large and the silence is something that is always there at night, when the sounds of the city fade into murmurs and chirps, with only the occasional yelp or scream to break its hold until dawn. The silence that comes over it comes through the small earbuds, cheaply made but able to convey the music sufficiently to his ears. They had cost him the time it took for him to write out a short document for the owner of the shop, not normally something difficult but with the way his hands shake and tremble, way more time than it should have to finish. 

Hands shaking even now, the man reaches out to tap the button that would start the song over again. The sound of footsteps coming to his door, soft as they are, is enough for him to hesitate. He knows she is there at the door, waiting for him to open it to her. Squeezing fingers tight against sudden aching pain, he waits for a moment or two, just until the pain eases, and then rises from his bed, leaving the iPad behind, closed now to hide the music player. Not that she wouldn’t know if she wanted to. As he pulls the door open he remains there, half-blocking the entrance, hoping she wouldn’t come in. Tonight was one of those where he didn’t want anyone’s company.

“Good evening, Stephen,” the Ancient One smiles at him, close enough in height that she doesn’t have to adjust her gaze upwards much.

Stephen nods. “Good evening, Ancient One. What brings you to my room so late?” 

She gives him that strange little smile she has, the one that barely touches the corners of her mouth, yet conveys such depth of meaning. Stepping into the room past him, her gaze sweeps around until it lands on the bed, covers rumpled from him sitting on it but having no sign of being slept in. Moving with light, quick steps, she is over to the side of it, reaching down and retrieving the iPad before he can utter any protest or question. With a flick of her finger, the screen opens and reveals the music player, waiting for the button to play the queued song. 

“You’ll never move forward in your studies until you let go of the past, Stephen.” Her smile is wry and a bit sad as she hands him the iPad. Crooking her finger at him, she leaves his small room and heads down the hall. 

He tosses it back on the bed and follows, nearly losing her as she makes her way through multiple twists and turns, the narrow halls crisscrossing and twisting around in ways that he is sure don’t make any logical sense. He could be mistaken, it could all just be a trick of the walls and the way they are painted, covered, designed. Having lost his way many times trying to get from his room to some place he hasn’t been, he still wonders how and is determined to figure out the trick. 

The room seems to be off the library, begging the question why she didn’t just go that way. Because that would be too obvious, he thinks sourly. She is nothing if not obtuse in her ways most of the time. In the months that he’s spent here, he figures things would have gotten clearer. Instead it’s been like she’s taken a stick and stirred the bottom of the lake, churning up all kinds of muck and debris to float around and muddy the waters. He looks up to find her looking into his eyes like she can see what he is thinking printed out in his skull, and she finds it amusing.

“You may use this room for whatever you need, Stephen. I do have one request, though.” Her voice is like a bell, ringing and clear, yet harmonic and soothing all at the same time. “Don’t practice your spells in here. Otherwise, feel free to read, study, do what you need here. In fact, I would like to ask something of you.”

Here it comes, he thinks. The demand to give up his music, or spend hours in meditation, or something equally inane that is supposed to help him concentrate better, do better, advance in his learning. He would agree that something is holding him back, but the fact remains that the classes and practice she’d already assigned him hasn’t helped him advance. Not enough for his own expectations, or hers. She could be regretting her agreement to teach him, as she has only just recently given him a sling ring, but hasn't truly shown him how to do anything except exercise and meditate. 

“It’s not your concentration that’s the problem, but regrets.” Again her voice rang through him, bringing his wandering thoughts slamming down. A frown furrows his brow as he wonders how she had known what he was thinking. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he folds his hands together. “How am I supposed to let go of my regrets, Master?”

“You’re an intelligent man,” she pronounces, bringing a soft huff of derision to his lips. She smiles at him, showing her amusement as always at his negativity. “Telling you to forget your past life, to erase it from your memory and move forward as though it never existed isn’t going to work for you.”

“No kidding.” His scorn is audible in his reply. His teachers had been repeating that to him and the others in his class for weeks now. And while most of the students were glad to give up their worldly cares, it only made him regret more. 

“If you will not allow yourself to be rid of them, then you must embrace them. Use them as a strength, instead of viewing them as a weakness.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Tiredness and defeat tinge his words and show in the slump of his shoulders. He had hoped she would show him some way to shut off that part of his mind that wouldn’t stop thinking, remembering his past and what he’d left behind. The decision to leave hadn’t been an easy one. Pain of the mental kind still guts him when he remembers the faces of those he left. Dreams of them haunt him at night, making it impossible to sleep unless he leaves his body so it can rest. 

Placing her hand on a stack of leather bound books sitting on the small table in the center of the room, she tilts her head so as to regard him at a different angle. “Write out your past. Put your story down in words on these pages so that you can view it more clearly. I find that the written word has a clarity that our own thoughts lack. It’s as if we are too close and so cannot see without our vision becoming blurred by our perceptions.”

He raises his scarred and shaking hands up as though to show them to her, then lets them drop back to his sides, a look of disgust twisting his features. “That’s...I don’t see how that’s supposed to help.”

She meets his scowl with an raised eyebrow. “Did your patients get straight up off the operating table and go out dancing?”

His scowl deepens and he folds his arms, hands tucked in tight under his elbows. “No, but,” he pauses and sighs, “okay, therapy. I get it. But seriously, how am I supposed to hold a pen? What good will it do if no one can read what I’ve written? After I write, then what? Burn it?”

The look of horror at his suggestion on her face actually brings a a hint of a smile to his. “We don’t burn books, Stephen. Shame on you for suggesting that. Even your scribbles,” she gives him a soft grin, “are worth saving. If only for you to see yourself progress.” 

A warmth erupts into being in the pit of his gut where only despair and sorrow have resided until now. Releasing the hold he has on his elbows, he lets his hands fall to his sides again. He nods in acceptance of her answer, waiting for more instructions. She lifts her chin, acknowledging his acceptance, then picks up the top book and hands it to him. 

“Here, use these. We have pens, quills, brushes, whatever you would like to use. If it’s not here, ask Wong for it.”

Reluctantly, he reaches out and takes the book, noting it is heavier than he expected. He opens it and sees the parchment within, torn edges and hand-bound ties to the cover indicating this was not some mass-produced pulp paper. Shaking his head, he hands it back.

“I can’t waste that paper with my chicken scratch. Don’t you have some cheap notepads or scrap paper I can use?”

The Ancient One studies him for several seconds, evaluating him as he always feels she does. He oftens wonders if she is really perplexed when he does things differently, and is it because she doesn’t expect it, or because she does. His curiosity is interrupted as she steps over to stand near him. She smiles at him and crooks her finger, asking him to come closer.

“I have an idea,” she gives him another smile as she leans in and whispers to him. 

Without another word, she turns and opens a portal, the fiery sparks lighting up the small room. Through the dimensional hole, an aisle shows in some store in another country, the metal shelving and rows of goods all neatly stacked and sorted giving it that bland repetitiveness that most first world stores share. There aren’t any shoppers visible and for a moment, he thinks the store might be closed. She steps through and motions for him to follow, closing the portal quickly on his heels. 

Turning to the shelves, he can see stacks of composition notebooks like what he’d used in school, as well as many other types and styles of mass produced notebooks and journals. Nodding, willing to use these, he turns to look behind him at the boxes and containers of pens and pencils. It seems the store is setting out their supplies for another school year. 

He hadn’t realized it was that time of the year. In fact, the more he considers it, the more he realizes he isn’t even sure what year it is. He’s fairly certain it might be the year after he left the apartment in New York, but he’s been at Kamar-Taj for some time, so it could possibly be the year after that. It doesn’t seem like two years have gone past, but it’s still not something he’d rule out just yet. Throwing himself headlong into his studies up until now had been the only way to escape the ache of his heart and the blackness in his head. 

“Are y’all finding everything alright?” 

The voice of the sales associate broke into his revere, startling him. Behind him, the Ancient One is counting out a stack of the composition notebooks, ignoring the intrusion. Stephen turns to the older lady, knowing they look completely out of place but also sure of how to get her to leave them alone.

“Yes, we’re fine. We’re just here to pick up some supplies for our school. She,” he tips his head backwards a bit to indicate his companion, “doesn’t speak to anyone but her students. Thank you, though.”

He waits until the lady leaves, her face an interesting mix of curiosity and confusion, then spins on his heel to face the Ancient One standing there with an armful of composition notebooks. 

“Well,” she says softly, “either take the books or open a portal. We should probably leave before the helpful lady comes back to check on us.”

“We can’t just take those!” Stephen keeps his protest low, not wanting to to attract any attention.

“Why not? Do you have any money? I know I don’t. Besides, what else are these going to be used for that won’t just end up with them being thrown out or left to rot in some box?”

Stephen considers her argument for a couple of seconds, then opens a portal behind her. He steps through and closes it, the sparks quickly dissipating into the air of the store aisle. 

Overhead, a camera whirs silently, recording the incident. Security protocols unknown even to the store’s Asset Protection team are triggered by the recognition software attached to them for the appearance of unknown energy signatures, odd or unusual clothing, sudden disappearances, and several other parameters. This information is sent to a database buried deep below a tall building in the middle of a high-priced neighborhood in New York, to be collated with other bits and pieces of information. Once it’s been processed, it is deemed relevant to certain search parameters and forwarded to a specific device belonging to the person that set the search in motion nearly two years ago.

Back in the side room off the main library at Kamar-Taj, Stephen steps out of the portal as the Ancient One sets the notebooks on the table next to the handmade books. She is grinning, her eyes sparkling in the light of the candles scattered along the walls around the room. Picking up the unneeded books, she nods at the assortment of pens and other writing instruments on the table near the newly acquired supplies. 

“There. Now write, Stephen. Examine your past, embrace it. Perhaps then you can leave it behind and accept your future.”

Stephen realizes he is smiling in return and tries to hide it, not sure if he is laughing at the Ancient One’s encouragement to steal notebooks, or her sheer audacity at using portals to do so. Up to this point, he’d been under the impression that magic was serious business and should never be used or taken lightly. 

“Oh no! I think something’s wrong, Stephen.” The Ancient One’s face goes serious and she steps up to him, wide-eyed. “Are you alright?”

Stepping back in alarm, Stephen raises a hand to meet hers, worry furrowing his brows. “I’m fine? Why? What is it?”

Her serious demeanor changes in an instant, brightening with a flash of a smile. “Good! You have a smile on your face! I thought you were broken, there for a moment.”

He blushes furiously, ducking his head and covering his mouth with one hand. Chuckles still escape him as he shakes his head. “You got me,” he murmurs, “I can’t believe you got me.”

Another light laugh comes out, the Ancient One tossing her head back and laying her hand over her heart. “Indeed, and now that we know you aren’t broken, I think you’ll find it easier to start writing.”

Stephen’s laughter fades to a wry smile. “And if I fill up a whole notebook with nothing but my name?”

The sparkle of mirth in her eyes sharpen to pierce him with her gaze. “Well, that would probably suffice to cover the first thirty years of your life, but I’m sure there’s more that happened to you in the past few years than just you inflating your ego. Start there. Surrender to the story of those you left behind.”

“But -”

She opens a portal, steps through it, looks back at him and smiles again. “Surrender, Stephen.”

Watching the portal close, Stephen is grateful that at least this time, she didn’t leave him on the slope of Mount Everest, or deep in the heart of the Congo. He knows this is the fourth or fifth time she’s said those words to him and wonders if any other student of hers has heard them as often. Of all the tasks she has set before him with that phrase, this is somehow the hardest. 

He grabs a chair and pulls it out, then flops into it, reminded of late night study sessions with Tony when they were still doing pre-med. That thought leads to others, such as what Tony and Y/N might be doing right now, which could be anything, considering they were most likely halfway around the world from him. This brings him back to the music Y/N had sent to him on his birthday, more precisely to his email inbox, telling him she wasn’t sure where he was but that she misses him and wants him to think of her when he plays the songs. 

He’s played them all once, but the one he’d been listening to when this night had gotten more interesting is the only one he has listened to since then. Grabbing the top notebook, he picks up a small brush and ink bottle, then makes a few marks on the front page in Sanskrit, sure that it will be easier than trying to use a pen or pencil for Latin lettering. Starting his first sentence, he gets out the words ‘Hello, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange,” then sighs. 

The motions for opening a portal is almost second nature to him now and he does it quickly, not wanting anyone to see him doing it in the library area. Reaching in, he grabs the iPad and brings it through, collapsing it immediately, and lays the device on the table next to his notebook. He taps the home button, then the start button, and places the earbuds in his ears and picks up the brush once again. The song, ‘Down’ by a duo calling themselves Marian Hill, starts up where it had left off as he begins writing out his story about the two loves of his life.


	23. Down - Remix - Verse 1 - Line 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down - Verse 1  
>  **Didn't even really wanna go**  
>  But if you get me out, you get a show  
> There's so many bodies on the floor  
> So baby we should go and add some more
> 
> Are you down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?  
> Down, d-d-down, d-d-down, d-d-down, down, down?
> 
>  
> 
> [Arc Reactor 616](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Arc_Reactor)
> 
>  
> 
> Real Life MIT ARC Fusion Reactor - [IEEE Spectrum Article](https://spectrum.ieee.org/energywise/energy/renewables/mit-has-plans-for-a-real-arc-fusion-reactor); [Daily News Article](https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3202618/Fusion-power-decade-MIT-reveals-small-reactor-claims-create-limitless-amounts-energy.html)
> 
>  [Doctors Without Borders (DWB)](https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/)

Previously in Down - Chorus 4: _Rushing to [Tony’s] side, Stephen crouches down to see what has gotten [him] even more upset. The sight of the ulcers in your mouth nearly makes him gag. Without looking more than from the corner of his eyes he can see how pale Tony has gotten. He can’t blame him in the least._  


_“We’re going to have to be quarantined as well,” Stephen whispers, “at least until we figure out what this is.”_  


_“I know what it is. I’ve seen this before, overseas.” The horror on Tony’s face strikes fear into Stephen, emphasizing the dire straits they’ve entered. “Anthrax. I’m sure of it. She’s been infected with anthrax.”_  


==============================  
Tony knows he’s in shock, though there’s little he can do besides acknowledge it at the moment. Sounds around him seem muted, almost like his head is underwater. People have entered the apartment, dressed in bio-hazard suits and carrying equipment needed to clear the place and make it clean again. Stephen is commanding both the SHIELD and CDC team with the same precision he uses in the OR, despite the paleness of his complexion showing that he isn’t taking this situation much better. Tony is mostly just grateful that everyone has stopped trying to separate him from you.  


He’s on the couch, holding your hand as you lay on the floor. Not sure if you were still conscious, he and Stephen had decided not to move you after discovering the sores on your body. This allows you to remain still as well as preserves the couch from further contamination, though Tony wonders if this is just nitpicking at this point. You had been laying on it when you started sneezing earlier as well as when you went into anaphylactic shock and nearly stopped breathing.  


He wishes he could do something for you, but the shock of you becoming this severely ill, right in front of him, when you’d been so vibrant and healthy earlier has taken that ability from him temporarily. The most he can do at this moment is watch you. Watch your breathing, watch the way your eyelids flutter as your eyes move back and forth. He still isn’t sure if you’re awake or not, but he hopes you aren’t. The fever you are running would be deadly if you weren’t Enhanced and possessing a small talent for advanced healing. As it is, he is sure the discomfort is why you appear to be experiencing fever dreams.  


It reminds him of the day he operated on you. A day that he remembers clearly, though it has been over six weeks since it happened. He knows it will probably stay with him the rest of his life.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Opening you up in the OR after having ridden with you all the way from Venezuela to Florida, where he’d done the initial surgery to save your life, had been the hardest thing for Tony to do. And the most desperate. The fact that you had even survived that explosion was impressive, but you had also saved over a hundred lives with your attempt at diverting the blast through the use of your sonic manipulation. Still, the only life that mattered to Tony was yours and it was in his hands.  


Everything was going well on the table, your vitals were stable, and he’d managed to pull out almost all of the shrapnel. It was when he was checking your heart for any remaining pieces that he discovered the splinter. He recognized it immediately. Touching it with his forceps only reinforced what he knew. This was not part of the shrapnel, but something different. The feel of it wasn’t metallic, though it looked like dull gray metal. He also knew, but tested anyways and wasn’t surprised to find it wouldn’t budge. He knew because he carried the same thing near his own heart, and had since his time in Afghanistan.  


{{{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}}}

_It had been five years ago, on an assignment with[DWB](https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/) that his life had changed forever. The bombs launched at his convoy had killed most of the personnel that had been with them. This in defiance of the flag they were flying declaring their neutrality as doctors. The nearby village sent out people to rescue them and gave them what little medical care they could. Considering most of the supplies from the convoy were lost, this wasn't much._

_When the rescue team had found him, it amazed them that he was still alive, due to the extent of his wounds. The Marine doctor that operated on him in the field informed him about the splinters of shrapnel she had found in his heart. She advised him to get his affairs in order, as it wasn’t certain how long he would live without a heart transplant. On the way back to their base, he recalled the stories he’d heard in the villages. The 'walking dead' is what the people in the villages had called those like him._

_He investigated and found cases he’d seen for himself of this very problem. When asked, they described how survivors of bombs would end up with shrapnel in or near their hearts. Tony learned from the local doctors the presenting symptoms. They taught him how to tell the pieces of shrapnel had penetrated the pericardial sac. He also learned that there was no way to treat them._

_Those people would be fine for a week or two after their wounds received treatment. Without warning, one day they would collapse while working, or not wake up. Once informed, the patient would go home and put their affairs in order as they waited to die._

_While on their way out of the desert, a group of Afghan soldiers attacked their rescue party again. The attackers, revealed as the same ones from before, captured those who remained alive. They brought the captives to their compound and separated Tony from the soldiers. His escort took him to the main building and showed him a highly sophisticated medical bay._

_There, one of the enemy soldiers stepped forward and spoke to him in English. This interpreter told him that he and another doctor were to operate on the leader of their organization for the very same condition that Tony was suffering from. The other doctor turned out to be not a medical doctor, but Dr Ho Yinsen, a Nobel Prize winning physicist. Tony had met the man several years before, though he didn't remember him at first. It had been at a party he’d thrown when he’d received the Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine._

_Tony soon found out that he had been the intended target of the first bombing attack. He'd avoided the first group of men sent out to collect him because of the interference of the local villagers. They had hid him from the terrorists and kept him alive until the US marines had come looking for him. Despite the anguish and anger this brought to him, the only way he was given to survive this ordeal was to do the operation on the leader._

_That’s when the idea of magnetic fluctuation to create a gentle pull to get the pieces out had come to him. After consulting with Yinsen, they worked together and devised an electromagnetic coil. If it worked, it would restrain the metal splinters and over time, make it possible to remove them. Upon presenting it, the leader was intrigued but made them use it on Tony first to prove it wouldn’t kill him. They implanted the device in Tony's chest, and he survived and improved. Then, the leader had them build and implant a second device in him._

_Of course, he and Yinsen had designed that second unit with a fatal flaw. They knew that only if they incapacitated or killed the leader would they have a chance at escape. What Tony didn’t tell Yinsen was that he had built another fatal flaw into the design. He expected the first one to be found due to the suspicion the terrorist leader had for anything they had done. Tony's arrogance in not revealing this to Yinsen cost the man his life. Yinsen sacrificed himself so that Tony could get out. This brought Tony even more anguish and regret._

_The ride in the military chopper had taken a couple of hours and been pure hell, though the painkillers in his IV had kept the worst of it at bay. They airlifted him to the nearest military base which at this point was north of Kabul. Forward Operating Base Sharana gave Tony his first real look at marines.When questioned about where they'd held him captive, there was one inquiry that bothered him more than any of the others. Did he know if any of the Marines captured with him were still alive? It was one that he couldn’t answer with any honesty. It was also the one that gave him nightmares. Especially when he found out that the marines believed in no one left behind. This meant volunteers planned on going out to find the ones that were missing._

_The thought of anyone else giving their lives to fix what had gone wrong with his rescue sickened him. It bothered him to the point he asked for a phone and made a call. There was one person he knew that could help him get payback for those that had sacrificed their lives for his. Director Fury had approached him a few years ago about designing powered armor for his field agents. Tony had jumped on the idea and started designs for his own use, all while putting off Fury with excuses. He took Fury's idea for a power armor suit and combined it with his father’s arc reactor designs as the power source. Now, with a real need for this, he contacted SHIELD about trading his designs for resources and soon had the prototype ready to go._

_When he finished building his suit, he retraced his route back into the northern mountains of the Hindu Kush region. It didn't take long until he found the compound he’d been held at. He scanned the area and discovered a pile of equipment taken from military personnel. The equipment was in a building with rooms showing the heat signatures for several people. They turned out to be a mix of marines and others that had been captured for various reasons._

_The one that surprised him the most was Lt. James Rhodes, who he had known from MIT. They had met before Tony became a doctor, when Tony was earning his Masters degree in Physics and Electrical Engineering and Rhodes was getting his Aeronautics degree. Anger overshadowed his joy when he found out that Rhodes had volunteered to come look for him the first time he'd gone missing. Tony could only tell him he was glad to see him before he had to walk away. Turning them loose, he directed them to the storage shed for their gear, and headed into the main building to find the leader._

_Unfortunately, the escapees encountered the outer perimeter patrol as they attempted to get away. Tony heard their defensive cries for help before he was able to break through the main building’s defense squads to get to the leader. As their rescue was the main reason he was here, he ended up putting his vengeance aside to go to their defense. He was able to get them out safely, guarding them to the point where they were able to meet up with a squadron of marines. This squadron was the very ones that had volunteered to go after them. Tony left them as they headed back to base, ignored the warnings about his fuel supply being low, and returned to the compound. Disposing of the guards that came out to meet him, he fought his way into the main building. Once inside, he found everyone and everything gone, including the leader._

_Filled with frustration and anger that Yinsen and the other marines had died for nothing, he started to blow the place up. This plan was thwarted when his suit powered down, which left him stranded with only backup power to run his radio and GPS locator. Stuck in the armor, he tried to radio in his location but got no reply. Certain that he was stuck there to die, he managed to get his helmet off and found a nice bottle of wine in the kitchen. As he was sitting there in the darkening room, the sun sinking below the horizon, getting drunk and thinking of his regrets, a Quinjet appeared. Inside, to his surprise and joy, were SHIELD agents, come to rescue him, led by none other than Lt. James Rhodes._

_It didn't take long to get back to the base. When they arrived, everyone was talking about how the rescue had gone down. The marines were telling stories about the Iron Man that set them free and the SHIELD agents weren't saying anything. Tony found himself sitting with Rhodes, the only one that had any real knowledge about what had actually happened. Rhodes had been in the middle of telling him that his secret was safe with him, but they needed to pick up the suit, when Tony collapsed._

_The doctors examined him and found he was suffering congestive heart failure. This condition had been brought about because his battery for the magnetic resonator in his chest was drained along with his suit’s battery. Now the splinters near his heart were starting to pierce the pericardial sac. Aggravating the danger was the added risk of the splinters shifting if they attempted any operation without better equipment than what was available at the base. As good fortune would have it, Stephen had been in Germany giving a lecture on a new laminectomy procedure he and a colleague had developed. Within an hour, Tony was being lifted by Quinjet up to the Medical Center in Landstuhl, where Stephen met them to perform the operation needed to save his life._

_Tony demanded that he remain conscious for the operation. Stephen had backed him up, citing alternatives to anesthesia like regional nerve blocks and site injections. The fact that he’d used these for neurosurgery was definitely in their favor. He also cited the need to have the best heart surgeon awake and aware for the surgery, meaning Tony himself. Directing Stephen in removing the shrapnel that they could, Tony hesitated when they came to the three pieces that remained in his heart muscle. They had a plan for the two metal ones, but the weird, non-metallic one had them both baffled._

_Using his and Stephen’s influence, they closed him up and put him in an MRI to see if that had any influence on the pieces. The reaction had been positive but not strong enough. This gave Tony and Stephen the leverage they needed to get permission to install the experimental reactor/magnetic resonator Tony had developed using SHIELD’s facilities. The idea of incorporating his father’s ARC reactor design, creating an miniature electromagnetic resonator to be used specifically for his ailment, had come to Tony the night he’d been brought back to FOB Sharana, while he was trying to sleep. After the success of his suit, he knew it would work on the worst of the splinters. They weren’t sure what to do about the odd, non-metallic one that Stephen had found, except leave it where it was._

_After the successful operation, he’d returned home and recuperated. He then started working with SHIELD on improving the arc reactor, upgrading the helicarrier, and eventually building another suit. Once the suit was built, he’d performed a test flight. Back to Afghanistan, he traveled, back to that compound, now being lived in by a family group of sheepherders. First retrieving the original suit, he’d also retrieved Yinsen’s body. This so he could take it to the man's homeland for burial as a last mark of respect for the one who had truly saved his life._   


{{{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}}}  


Stephen had never removed that odd, non-metallic splinter. Tony had almost forgotten about it until he met you. At that moment it was as though something had stabbed him in his chest, or zapped him with high voltage. It had been your first day at the Avengers Training facility so he hadn’t wanted to approach you, feeling it would have been creepy to have Iron Man come up to you and flirt with the mask in place. It would have also cracked his stainless reputation for being aloof and obnoxious.  
Instead, the more he worked with your team and you, the more he grew to admire and respect you, until it became painfully aware to him that he had fallen in love with you. Since then, he’d pined for you, finding ways to go on the same missions, or close enough he could track you. Almost losing you before he ever had a chance to get to know you had been terrible. Losing you now that he has, unthinkable.  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


A hand on his shoulder brings him out of his reverie, followed by Stephen’s masked face coming into view.  


“Tony, we’re ready to move out. The med chopper is here. We have to put [y/n] on a stretcher now.”  


Behind him, people in bio-hazard covers and scrubs are lining up the stretcher and preparing you for transport. Placing his hand over yours, Stephen gently removes it from Tony’s grip, causing Tony to glance up, his eyes pleading for help and reassurance.  


“I really hate helicopters,” he whispers to Stephen, knowing his words are understood in full as based on more than a fear of flying.  


Stephen grabs both of Tony’s shoulders and squeezes them, resting his forehead against Tony’s. When Tony slumps and rests his head on Stephen’s shoulder, he feels Stephen wave his hand, signaling the EMTs to move you to the chopper that’s waiting for you on the roof.  


Once the stretcher is out of the way, Tony lets Stephen help him to his feet and lead him to the door. He follows the stretcher into the elevator and up to the roof, where he can see both the CDC chopper and, over on the garage roof, the quinjet from SHIELD that had come in response to the call Stephen had placed to Banner. Before he loses his nerve, he speeds up and gets to the CDC chopper, jumping in and strapping himself in his seat, then taking your hand in his once again, giving it a kiss.  


Looking at Stephen, he catches the wry, sad smile showing in his friend’s eyes and waves him onto the chopper. Stephen taking the seat across from him almost hurts, until he picks up your hand and gives the back of it a kiss through his mask. Tony reaches out his other hand, laying it across your stomach. Glancing around the cabin of the chopper, Stephen’s gaze comes back to meet Tony’s, and, face reddening, gives a tiny shake.  


Tony understands then how wound up Stephen is. He’s known forever that Stephen has never been one for much physical affection with anyone he doesn’t know or feel comfortable with. The sheer amount of physical contact that has been happening today is nothing short of amazing, so this small declination of his isn’t unexpected. Nodding to show his understanding, Tony lays his palm on your solar plexus, the rhythm of your breathing easing his stress now that you are on the way to getting help.  


The memories of his own chopper experience fresh in his mind, Tony tells himself it won’t be as bad. There isn’t people trying to shoot you out of the air and the hospital is literally right up the street. The worst that could happen is having to wait for the helipad to clear. With this in mind, he turns to Stephen, leaning over you to get closer so he won’t have to yell.  


“[Y/N] said she had something else to tell us about her moving in. Any idea what that might be?”  


Shaking his head, Stephen sits back as the chopper swings around for the approach. Tony sits back as well, trying to ignore the little voice in his head telling him he's better off not knowing until your fate has been decided and you’re back on your feet.  


=============================  
You are summoned from a deep, dreamless slumber, through fathomless depths of soft, soothing waves pulling at you, dragging you back down under. A lifeline tugs at you, bringing your attention up, drawing you back to consciousness. It’s not a sound, not at first, but a touch, a hold on you that connects you to what is drawing you up from the seductive darkness. As you rise, the touch grows and is joined by a sound, one that is as familiar as the beat of your own heart. It doesn’t beat, though it has a pulse, one that rings out with the faint chime of a bell rung long ago yet still sounding faintly in your ears.  


Before you can determine the source of the touch and the chime, as it seems linked or connected somehow, the silence in which you are listening to them shatters and explodes. For an instance, fear triggers adrenaline and images flash through your mind, memories of an explosion that hit you, threw you back, even as you attempted to force a change of direction upon that terrible power. The touch tightens and resolves into the clench of a hand in yours as the explosion resolves into the sound of a voice, another source of familiarity. Your rise up to conscious awareness is completed by the roar of Dr Banner as he breaks through the barrier formed by soldiers stationed around your room to come charging in, shouting and growling at the top of his lungs.  


“You cannot keep me from her! She is my patient!”  


The commotion brings you to awareness that is a continuation of the dual state you’d felt since the beginning of this journey. Touch and sound intertwine to gift you with the suspicion that you’ve been gone for a very long time. First is a sensation, overlaying that touch and the background of voices blending into white noise, that becomes a realization that you are parched. Your mouth, lips, tongue, the skin on the back of your hand as it brushes the blanket it lays on, all are desiccated, desiring moisture. You lick your lips, or try to, but there’s something hard and plastic and dry in your way. The attempt you make to swallow has the same results as when you try to blink. Both are gummy and hard to accomplish.  


Wanting to get someone’s attention, you try to call out, only to discover that your voice box is not currently working. You aren’t quite sure why, but that’s when you notice that your breathing is being controlled, in and out, in and out, to the sound of machinery pumping and purifying the air being fed into your lungs. Noise is good, especially this close. You can use this noise to make more, to make yourself heard. More noise comes from just outside the room. Dr Banner again, if you are hearing right.  


The sensation of smells comes to you, stronger than they have in a long time. You chalk it up to being in the hospital again, where everything is scrubbed clean constantly and all noises are muted subconsciously. That deeper bass in Dr Banner’s voice, the part that evokes the smell of damp earth and fertilizer beneath his roses and sunshine, is stronger than you’ve ever heard it. In response to his roar, you hear a very familiar grouping of scent notes, the sensation of polished wood and old furniture evoking Stephen’s well-defined features to go along with his sardonic tone used to address anyone he isn’t close to. He’s attempting to reason with Dr Banner, though the sharpness in his tone tells you he is reaching the limits of his patience.  


Worried he might lose control, you try to manipulate the sounds around you, wanting to get someone’s attention and let them know he is your doctor as well as the fact that you’re awake and want to see him and Stephen both. Instead of the thrill from the energy of sounds penetrating your cells, it’s like reaching into a very soft cloud of fog, muffled and slippery, the notes evading your grasp and dancing out beyond you. Panic hits you then and you attempt to draw in more breath, more air. Gasping, you choke on the tube in your windpipe. Unable to reach out with your ability, you grab with your free hand, your left hand, as the right one is secured to a brace of some kind and isn’t able to close.  


That’s when the touch and the chime from earlier resolve into a combination of physical presence as well as sound. Your hand is gripped in return and you are pulled upright, the touch of someone’s hand at your mouth as you gag on the intubation tube an odd source of comfort. It’s a very familiar touch, one that quickly removes the tape and then pulls the tube from your throat. With that obstacle out of the way, you are able to breathe fully, drawing the air into your lungs for dizzying relief.  


The hand holding yours pulls you even closer, joined by the other one going around your shoulders. Tipping your head back and up, you open your eyes to stare once again into warm, whiskey-gold pools filled with love and relief. Eyelids crinkling around them as he smiles, Tony chuckles, his mouth hidden by the mask he is wearing but obviously curving in a big grin.  


Prompting the sensation of lightning at midnight, laced with dark humor, just as it did all those weeks ago, his voice sends a thrill straight through you, backed by the subtle chime of his reactor underlying it as always.

“Well, hello. Are you alright?”  


The smile and calm demeanor might have worked on his regular patients. It may have also fooled anyone else into thinking he’s got his emotions under control. You could tell, however, from the extra tightness in his tone and the shimmer of his eyes that he is exhausted and stressed to the point of collapse. You try to reach up to touch his face, only to be restrained again by whatever is on your right hand. Making a face, you look down and find your hand strapped to a brace with a couple different tubes attached to the needles in your skin. Turning your gaze back to Tony, you try to speak. Nothing comes out, though your throat aches and your lips crack from dryness.  


He sees your distress and holds up his free hand, letting yours go. “Hang on. I’ll get you a drink.”  


Reaching over to the small table at the foot of your bed, he grabs the cup there and brings it to your mouth. A brief second of hilarity happens as he attempts to angle the straw for you, which you catch with your tongue. Drawing in the cool water, you sigh in relief. This moment of simple satisfaction is interrupted by more noise and shouting coming from the area beyond the plastic curtain that separates your room. Eyes wide at the ruckus, you turn your gaze from that direction back to Tony. He looks a bit dazed at first, then notices your expression and shakes his head.  


“Sorry, I just woke up. I’ll go take care of -”  


He’s interrupted by a sudden influx of people, hospital personnel and others, all piling into your room and swirling about as they filled up the empty space. They come up against the plastic curtain and pull back, instinctively withdrawing from the perceived danger. Only two remain at the clear windows of the divider, caught and held by the sight of you sitting up on your bed. Stephen and Bruce, both of them standing there with very different expressions on their faces. The contrast of Stephen’s surprise and relief against Bruce’s grin of expectations fulfilled makes you smile. Throat still dry and not sure they would hear you if you spoke without your ability to amplify it, all you can do is wave and look pleased at their responses.


End file.
